The Nephesh
by LouBlue
Summary: Ichabbie. Set six months after the S2 finale, and Ichabod and Abbie are busy being witnesses, but there has been a slowly building storm between them, and due to the fact they're now stuck in a hole together, there is nothing left to do but talk it out... or you know, other stuff.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N** **: Hi guys, long time no see. :D Sorry about that.**

 **Now, I know I promised you a sequel to my other Ichabbie fic, 'The Jargogling of Ichabod Crane'… but this isn't that. Basically I've had a few guests ask about the sequel… or the same guest more than once, not really sure, and of course, you can't pm back a guest question, which is frustrating of , but it is what it is.**

 **So, to not appear rude and dismissive, I jotted down this story so I could answer the guest's question in the intro… as I am doing now. Like I said, it's not a sequel to The Jargogling, but it is an Ichabbie fic. Probably only going to be 3 chapters or so, at least, that's my hope. At this point I'm not seeing myself doing the sequel to Jargogling any time soon, but with the upcoming new season promising a fresh start, who's to say what the muse will want to do. With this story, I'm just picking up about six months later from where the show finale of S2 left off. It's just a bit of fluff and nonsense, and I must admit, it was great fun writing for these characters again.**

 **Anyways, running late for work, seriously must dash. Here's the chapter, and hope the above have answered people's questions about the sequel. Thank you all so much for caring, that's awesome. :D**

 **THE NEPHESH** **(neh'-fesh)**

"With my last breath, I'll exhale my love for you.

I hope it's a cold day, so you can see what you meant to me. "  
~Jarod Kintz~

 _This is the best book I've ever written, and it still sucks_

 **CHAPTER ONE**

Ichabod Crane let out a protracted and noisy sigh, full of annoyed resignation.

Abbie glanced up at him, arching an eyebrow at him in silent questioning.

"I find myself in another hole," Ichabod clarified, pointing out a situation Abby was fully aware of, and had been for the last two hours or so. He gave a small pout, and made a clucking noise with his tongue. "My adult life seems to consist of nothing but being in holes."

They were indeed in a hole, the two of them, wedged together in the tight confines of a completely vertical hole. Ichabod had uncharacteristically not seen the booby trap as they'd made their ways through the darkened woods, and now they were in a hole. Ichabod had stepped backwards to get his bearings, Abbie had moved forward, and the next thing either of them knew they were at the bottom of a very small, but long, hole. The opening was a good fifteen feet above their heads, too far to reach, even if they weren't pinned against each other, face to face in the small space.

"You're just saying that because you've been buried alive twice," said Abbie dismissively.

"Indeed, that would be my impetus for making such a statement, Lieutenant," he said wryly. "Whilst the understanding is that the third time is the charm, I am not finding this situation to be anywhere near a discernable level of charm, so allow me, if you will, to take more than a little umbrage at that piece of optimistic rhetoric."

"Yeah," sighed Abbie, "I'm pissed too. I hate this stupid hole."

Ichabod gave a small grunt. "Succinct as always."

"You should try it sometime," said Abbie flatly.

That earned her a vaguely disapproving look down that long nose of his.

Abbie wasn't backing down. "Hey, I'm stuck in this hole with you, okay? Don't be giving me that look."

"One could hardly forget such a thing," muttered Ichabod as he moved against her, grimacing as he tried to find a more comfortable position.

They were pressed up hard against one another, face to face. Or, rather, Abbie's face in Ichabod's chest. "Stop jiggling all about," she complained. "You're all pointy and sharp… oww!" One of those pointy and sharp things on his body connected with her ribs. "Crane!"

"I'm trying to give you more room," he said defensively.

"How, by caving in my ribcage?"

"A slight overstatement of the facts, don't you think, Lieutenant?" he sniped back. The mood in their dirt prison was taking a decided turn for the worst.

Ichabod moved his arm again, and this time Abbie felt herself gain a little more breathing room, not that she'd tell him that. Both of their patience's were being worn thin. She wasn't in the mood to be charitable.

"Is that better?"

"Yeah, just peachy," said Abbie flatly. "We should invite a few friends over, get this party really started."

"I don't believe your acerbity adds anything to the situation," said Ichabod snippily. He moved the arm he had stretched out above their heads, resting his palm against the dirt wall. Ichabod's other arm was down by Abbie's side from where he'd instinctively gone to grab her as they fell. How'd they'd fallen was pretty much how they'd stayed, because there was barely enough room for one person in the reduced diameter of the trap, let alone two. One of Abbie's hands was caught behind Ichabod's back, and she was unable to free it without him moving forward, but if he did that, she'd be crushed. Her other hand was caught between their bodies, suffering the same fate. It was just fortunate that Abbie was as small as she was otherwise breathing might be more of an issue than it already was, although she wasn't feeling very fortunate right then. Her phone starting ringing… again. It had fallen out of her jacket when they'd fallen and was currently at their feet. The thing may as well have been on the other side of the planet because there was just as much a chance of either of them being able to answer it in their current predicament.

Ichabod let out another annoyed breath. "At what point do you think your friend will come to the realization that you are not answering him, and consider that we may be in need of assistance?"

"Hawley is my friend just as much as he is yours," she shot back.

A small snort from Ichabod. "I do not believe that to be the case, Lieutenant, and I certainly know that Mr. Hawley hopes it is indeed not the case."

A frown marred Abbie's brow. "What?"

Ichabod looked away. "Nothing."

"It wasn't nothing. You used up our limited oxygen supply saying all those words, now put them in some order I can understand."

"We do _not_ have a limited oxygen supply," pointed out Ichabod with a long suffering tone to his voice.

"Guess that's just wishful thinking on my behalf then," she grumbled. Unconsciousness seemed like a better way to go with how things were turning out that night.

They stared each other down, Abbie with her head craned right back to hold his gaze defiantly.

"You do realize that, I too, am unhappy about our current predicament," said Ichabod at last, his look full of disapproval.

"I know, you keep clucking."

Ichabod sucked in an offended breath. "I do not cluck."

"Cluck, tutting, sighing… it's like I'm stuck down here with a dolphin." Abbie knew she wasn't making this situation any easier, but she was tired, and hungry and they'd been stuck there for what felt like forever. She was in no mood to play nice. Her phone stopped ringing.

Ichabod glared at her. "It seems our mutual friend has left you yet another message."

"You don't know it's Hawley," said Abbie defensively, and not knowing why she was being defensive at all, which annoyed her further.

"It is Hawley," said Ichabod with the confidence that only a man who thought he was in the right when he was really being an idiot, could demonstrate.

"What do you have against Hawley all of a sudden?" she asked in exasperation.

"I have the same reservations I've had about him since our first acquaintance. Reservations you seem to no longer share since his recent return to town, it would seem."

"I feel like there is an accusation in there, but I don't know what it is."

Ichabod shrugged, the action causing his chest to graze against her chin. "You are mistaken, there is no accusation."

"Implication, inference, some kind of passive aggressive thing you're so good at."

"I am being neither passive nor aggressive," sniffed Ichabod.

"You're being annoying," she threw back at him. "Just tell me what your issue with Hawley is. You were never this huffy with him before, but ever since he got back, the guy can't do anything right by you."

"And everything right by you, it seems," he shot back. Ichabod grunted. "Although investigating our disappearance and rendering assistance doesn't seem top of the man's priorities, which frankly I find surprising."

"Isn't your beef about Hawley always looking out for himself? Now you're throwing shade his way because you thought he'd be running to help us?" Abbie was getting fed up at all of Ichabod's back and forth. "Which one is it, Crane?"

"Rest assured, any running that man would be doing would be to helping you, not me."

Abbie blinked. "Excuse me?"

Ichabod expelled a short breath of impatience. "You are an intelligent woman, Lieutenant. It cannot failed to have escape your attention that Hawley has a fondness for you beyond that of simple friendship."

"You're crazy."

Ichabod arched one long eyebrow. "Oh, am I indeed?"

"Look, okay, yes, maybe, in the beginning, when we first met, he may have given me a second look, but then he and Jenny started hanging out more, and his attention was back on her."

"And then he left, and since his return, has found a renewed interest in you."

Abbie pursed her lips, eyeing him in vague annoyance. It was true Hawley and Jenny hadn't seemed to be going anywhere since his return, but that had nothing to do with her. "Even if that was true—"

"Which it is," returned Ichabod roundly.

" _If_ it was true, what's that to do with me, and even more to the point, what's it to do with you?"

"We are the Witnesses."

"Thanks for the recap, I remember. It's how we ended up in the hole. Out in the woods, at night, looking for some old crazy guy who lives in a cabin who has a book that can help us vanquishing spells," she said acerbically. "So yeah, I know we're the Witnesses."

"We have a sacred duty. One that we must put above all others."

"I don't remember turning in my Team Witnesses sash," said Abbie sarcastically. "I'm here aren't I? Wedged down in a dirty, wet hole with you, doing the Witness thing. What does Hawley's alleged interest in me have to do with any of that?"

"This old man we were coming out to see was a contact of Hawley's, and you at no point questioned the man's validity, seeing as he came so highly recommended. Now we find the area surrounding his abode to be booby-trapped."

Abbie scowled fiercely. "Excuse me? First of all, I viewed this old man contact with the same wariness I view anyone who is meant to be helping us, because we've had not a fantastic record on that front. And second of all, I know you're not mute, I've just spent two hours in a hole with you huffing and puffing," she said hotly. "At any time before we came out to the middle of nowhere, you could have spoken up about any reservations you had, but you didn't… and now we're in a hole."

"I didn't want you think I didn't have confidence in your judgment," said Ichabod stiffly.

"Really, because you seem fine with that right now," she snapped back.

Ichabod pressed his lips together tightly. "It's just that sometimes entanglements of a romantic nature can cloud ones judgement in what we both agree is a higher calling."

Abbie's eyes went wide. "Seriously? I mean _seriously_? You of all people are going to use that line with me… with everything that went down with and because of Katrina."

Ichabod tensed against her. Standing this close it was impossible to hide their reactions from one another. Abby hadn't meant to bring up Katrina in that way, but Ichabod was just pushing her too hard.

His face was set in stone as he looked down at her. "What happened with Katrina is done. There is nothing else to speak about concerning the matter."

"Really, because some people might argue that being forced to kill your wife to save the world is something normal people might want to talk about… you know, at least once," she said flatly. It had been nearly six months since Katrina's untimely death, and during that time she and Ichabod hadn't discussed it at all. Every time Abbie had tried to broach the subject, to see how he was really handling the loss of Katrina, Ichabod would cut her off, with talk of what's done is done. Abbie was worried about him repressing so much, but right then she was mostly annoyed that he was seriously lecturing her on the dangers of emotional entanglements clouding judgment after his backing and forthing over Katrina in the months leading up to her death.

"Talking does not change the fact that she is no longer part of our lives," said Ichabod simply, but there was a small note of pain to his words, no matter how dismissive he tried to sound. "The person currently a part of our lives with the potential to cause discord between us is."

"You don't need an outside party to cause discord between us," sniped Abbie. "You seem to be doing just great on your own."

"Your knee jerk defense of Hawley only serves to further my point," he sniffed.

"If I wasn't immobilized right now, I'd show you what my knee jerk can really do," she snapped up at him.

"Mm," grunted Ichabod, "it is clear that we are unable to have a rational discussion on the subject because of your emotional ties to your lover. I understand. I shall speak no further on the subject."

"Don't do me any favors, and excuse me, my _lover_?" Abbie didn't know where all this was coming from. "Now Hawley's my lover?"

Ichabod evaded her gaze, looking straight ahead. "You do not need to share the details of your romantic encounters with me, Lieutenant. I have no interest in them."

"You don't? Because this interrogation you're handing out makes it sound like you're interested," said Abbie hotly.

"Only so far as in the clouding of your judgment in being able to recognize impending danger," said Ichabod stoically. He met her angry gaze again. "Otherwise it is none of my business."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. There is nothing going on between Hawley and me," said Abbie in frustration.

Ichabod managed to combine both hurt and anger in his response as he seemed intent on believing she was lying to him. "Is that so? Then I must have imagined the events of two weeks ago."

Abbie looked at him blankly. "What events?"

"The events whereby I was to present myself at your apartment first thing in the morning two Tuesday's previously, so that we could discuss the wilting of surrounding crops, and its link to the conjuring of evil spirits."

"Um, okay, yeah, I remember that. You were late."

"I was perfectly on time," said Ichabod sharply. "It was you who were struggling to be in a fit state to be ready to receive me at our prearranged time." He inclined his head. "But it was understandable, I suppose, seeing as you were particularly distracted that morning."

"Was I?" Abbie still couldn't work out what had Ichabod so worked up. That morning didn't stand out to her at all. "Why?"

"Perhaps it was the naked man standing in your kitchen?" offered up Ichabod flatly.

Abby just stared at him. "A naked man… in my kitchen?" Suddenly that morning came back to her. "Oh, you mean Hawley?"

"Unless you have a plethora of unclad gentleman callers to recount from, then yes, that would be him." There was no way to miss the censure in Ichabod's tone.

"He wasn't naked, and there was a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why he was there," said Abby, miffed at having to explain herself. "Not that it's any of your business, particularly with the attitude you're throwing my way right now. It's not like I get all up in your personal life."

He gave a bark of laughter. "Oh come now, Lieutenant," said Ichabod sharply, "there is no way you can believe that to be true."

"Hey, I held my tongue with you and Katrina," said Abbie forcefully. Ichabod's openly skeptical facial expression had her recanting slightly. "Okay, I mostly held my tongue. I could have said a whole lot more than I did."

"Just as I have held my tongue on your choice of romantic partners," he returned a little harshly.

"Hawley isn't my choice of romantic partner, and this isn't you holding your tongue!" Abby wanted to stalk off then, but she couldn't, because they were still stuck in the damn hole, forced to argue this out without any way of taking a moment and getting emotions back under control. Ichabod had been acting a little strangely around her for weeks, and now she knew why. For some reason he was hell bent on believing she was lying to him about Hawley. It made her want to slap him, but her hands were immobilized… almost.

"Oww!" squawked Ichabod, looking down at her in shock. "Did you just pinch me?"

"If you can't tell, I must be doing it wrong," she sassed him. Abbie went in for another pinch of Ichabod's stomach, the only place her trapped hand could reach.

"OWWW!" This time his complaint was even louder. "Lieutenant, keep your hands and your pinching little fingers to yourself!"

"I can't keep anything to myself in this hole," she threw back at him. "And you're getting off lightly. What I really want to do is slap you."

Ichabod scowled. "There is no need to resort to physical violence in defense of your lover," he said bitterly.

"Ohhh! Why are you being this stubbornly annoying about this whole thing? I told you nothing is going on, just believe me, okay?" Abbie shook her head. "This is so stupid. We're fighting over nothing."

"We're not fighting, we're having a robust exchange of views," he countered.

"Oh, so what, now we're fighting about whether we're fighting?" asked Abbie in disbelief. "Give me a break, Crane!" She couldn't do this anymore. "Scratch that, just give me the flask in my top coat pocket."

"But that flask was meant to lubricate the wheels of discussion in our procuring of the spell book," Ichabod reminded her. "Hawley said the old man would happily trade the book for the flask."

"My need is greater right now," said Abbie flatly. "We'll trade something else with the old guy if we ever get out of this hole. Right now I'm cold and annoyed, and need something to take the edge off both."

"So you really believe either situation requires alcohol?" he asked disapprovingly.

"I guess I could do other things to keep my mind off both." Abbie pinched Ichabod's stomach again.

"Argh!" he grunted, grimacing down at her. "Very well, you and your pincer-like fingers have me at a disadvantage."

"You'll have to get the flask," she pushed him. "I can't move my hands."

"The flesh of my stomach could only wish that were true," he grumbled, but nonetheless lowered the hand which had been resting above her head, and fished out the flask, holding it up to her.

Abbie rolled her eyes at him. "I'm not swallowing it whole. Take off the cap." That sounded rude, even to her. "Please."

Ichabod deftly unscrewed the flask top one handed with those long fingers of his, all the while sending her a silent look of judgment. Once unscrewed he just looked at her.

"I can't just suck it out from here," she said in exasperation. Why was this man intent on being excruciatingly painful all of a sudden?

Ichabod made another cluck of disapproval.

"I don't want to hear it, Flipper, just give me the hooch."

He lifted the flask to her lips and Abbie drank. The liquid was both sharp and smooth at the same time, and an instant warmth flooded her entire body. She blinked a couple of times. "Not bad. Hit me again."

Ichabod placed the flask opening against her lips and portioned her another drink. "It's so nice to know you now require inebriation to be in my presence," he muttered dourly.

Abbie licked her lips. "Only when you're being like this."

"How am I being?" he asked indignantly.

"Overly sensitive, judgmental, relentless, judgmental—"

"You have already listed judgmental amongst my faults, Lieutenant," said Ichabod stiffly.

"You've been working that one extra hard tonight. It was worth a second mention." The pit of her stomach was feeling nice and warm now, so that statement wasn't said with any real vehemence.

"It is a source of wonder that we are able to find room to draw breath with all of my faults crowding us so," he said tightly.

Abbie sighed heavily. "Crane, I don't want to fight with you. I don't even know why we're fighting." She gave an abrupt shudder.

"Lieutenant?" queried Ichabod, instantly concerned.

"I'm okay, just a delayed kick from the alcohol." She blinked rapidly, feeling parts of her body begin to tingle.

"What is it, whiskey?" Ichabod sniffed the flask.

"I think so, only not quite like any whiskey I've tasted before. It's probably because it's top shelf stuff if Hawley was using it to barter with." Abbie sighed, feeling suddenly tired. "I can't afford the expensive stuff, not on my salary." She half-smiled. "And me supporting a dependent as well." Abbie looked up, inviting Ichabod to join in on her teasing, but he was looking at her very seriously instead. "Oh come on, I'm just playing with you, Crane. You know that doesn't bother me."

Ichabod just continued to stare at her, expression pensive as his hand holding the flask now rested on her shoulder.

"Crane, stop looking at me like that. You know I don't think of you as a dependent. It's just how the circumstances worked out, that's all."

"Only it's true," he said quietly, "and it is a truth I am just coming to fully understand."

"What truth?" she asked, bemused. That feeling of warmth was back again. It was nice. Abbie felt… nice.

"I am your dependent it would seem, Lieutenant Mills."

"Crane, come on, money is no big deal—"

"This is not about the financial understanding between us."

"Then what _is_ this about?" Abbie really wanted to know. Had wanted to know what was going on with him for weeks. "Crane, talk to me. I need to know what is going on with you. I don't want any kind of distance between us." She glanced down at their pressed together bodies. "Although being able to take a step back wouldn't be the worst thing in the world right now," she said wryly.

"You are invariably correct in that matter, but I find myself unable to do that," whispered Ichabod, eyes not leaving hers.

"I know, Crane," she said in vague amusement. "I'm in the hole too."

He gave a small, sad smile. "I do not believe that to be the case, Lieutenant, and I am taken aback as to how difficult that fact is to reconcile to me."

"What are we talking about?" asked Abbie slowly. She didn't know if it was the alcohol in her system, or her generalized tiredness, but she was having trouble keeping up with their conversation.

"Since the loss of my family—" he faltered only slightly over the words, "I have found this life being not unlike being banished to a deep, dark hole, with no light above me."

"Crane," said Abbie in concern.

Ichabod's tone was very somber as he continued on. "The single comfort I have taken from those feelings is the knowledge that I am not alone in that hole, that I have a companion by my side, displacing the darkness by virtue of her presence."

Abbie bit her bottom lip, a little overwhelmed to hear Ichabod talk of the sober outlook he had on life these days. She'd suspected all was not well with him after Katrina and Henry's death, of course, but to have it confirmed like this was hard to hear.

"And now I find myself arriving at the unhappy realization that I begrudge her any kind of attempt to leave that hole, and feel sunshine on her face once more," said Ichabod unhappily.

"Are you telling me you think Hawley is my sunshine?" asked Abbie in horror.

"What I am saying is that I have given everything to the calling of being a Witness," said Ichabod quietly. "I have nothing left but the task which lies ahead of us."

Abbie was taken aback by the sadness she heard in his voice. "Crane, you're not alone. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere." She tried to make him smile. "Literally, I seriously can't move. You're my rock and my hard place."

"I do not wish to be your prison, Lieutenant," he said painfully.

"Fate imprisoned both of us," she countered. "And you know what, we could walk away, if we wanted to, but we don't. I stay because—"

"Because?" he asked her, expression intent.

Abbie attempted to give a shrug, but it was limited. "Because this is where I'm meant to be, with you, in a hole. It's the only thing which makes sense of my life… our calling… you."

"I make sense of your life?" he asked in wonder.

"As annoying as that fact is sometimes, yes," she said with a little smile. "Don't I make sense of yours?"

Ichabod regarded her with a renewed intensity that suddenly had Abbie struggling to draw breath. His expression was inscrutable, but those blue eyes of his told of some internal battle going on, only Abbie didn't know what he was feuding with himself about. Ichabod's finger unfurled from where it was holding the flask resting on her shoulder and touched the bottom of her jawline. It was the lightest of touches, so much so Abbie could have convinced herself she imagined the simple caress, only she hadn't.

"It is with great trepidation I concur that you do, Lieutenant, you make sense of my world," he said unevenly. "And I fear greatly what that means."

"It means we're a team, we're partners, we're the Witnesses and we're—"

Ichabod had been listening to her intently as she reaffirmed their connection, but then, out of the blue, he bent his head and pressed his lips against hers.

"—kissing," she mumbled into their gentle, tentative kiss, feeling an element of shock at that revelation.

Ichabod drew back slightly, looking down at her with eyes as full of surprise as she knew hers must be. "I-I am sorry," he said shakily. "Forgive me, Lieutenant, I overstepped the bounds of appropriate behavior between us. I should go."

They stared at each other, the inane nature of his declaration sinking in for both of them.

"I cannot leave," he declared hoarsely, eyes glued to hers.

"It's the hole," said Abbie weakly, wishing she had more command of this situation, but she felt like she was floating and sinking all at the same time. Damn whiskey.

"It is not the hole," said Ichabod soberly.

 _It is you._

Ichabod didn't say the words aloud, but it was almost as though he had, Abbie heard them so clearly in her head, read them in his expression. Given an option, Ichabod would rather remain in a hole with her then claw his way to freedom, towards the sunshine. It was an overwhelming tacit declaration for him to make into the silence between them. It was made all the more overwhelming to Abbie as she realized she felt the same way. However this war turned out, whatever the rest of her life held in store for her, she simply couldn't envisage the future without Ichabod in it. Perhaps Ichabod saw something of her own epiphany in her face because he was once again bending his head, his lips seeking out hers, and Abbie found her lifting her head, doing the same.

This time their kiss was longer, the tentativeness evaporating almost instantly as they settled into the kiss. Everything a first kiss should be, initially shy, full of wonder and then with a growing confidence. It had been so long since Abbie had experienced a good first kiss and she'd forgotten the sheer joy of it, and this was a good first kiss… in fact it was a great one. Ichabod's lips moved back and forth over hers, not too gently, but with just the right amount of pressure. Without even realizing she was doing it, Abbie went up on her tip toes, enforcing a deepening of the kiss. Ichabod didn't need a second invitation. His lips pressed a little harder against hers, and without thinking, Abbie parted hers, granting him entry to taste her more deeply. Ichabod's fingers were stroking her cheek as his tongue slipped past her lips, and Abbie felt a volley of shock rip through her body at the taste of Ichabod in her mouth for the first time. It was like lightening had suddenly found its way into her body, and every cell in her body was humming, making a song in her ears she could have sworn the whole world must be able to hear. Her hand at his back clutched at the material of his coat, clinging to him as her whole body erupted into some kind of chorus. This was crazy, the kiss was crazy. It was impossible something could be this good.

"Abbie," groaned Ichabod into their kiss.

Abbie could hear the same wonderment in his voice that she was experiencing. If this was impossible, then it seemed like they were both the victims of implausibility. Willing victims.

"Don't—"

"Don't?" rasped Ichabod, the whispered word still managing to convey his horror at such a concept.

"Stop," Abbie finished off, not letting herself think. Thinking was overrated. Thinking had never made her feel like this before. "Don't stop," she ordered him.

Relief flooded Ichabod's face, and then he was doing just as he was told, reclaiming her mouth in more of those toe-curling kisses, where it was just the two of them occupying the whole world.

Damn it, but she loved this stupid hole…

 **A/N** **: More to come… just not 100% sure when, guys. I guess more reviews will see this promoted to my list of things to do… she said, in a shameless act of manipulation. ;) Either way, hope you had fun with it. :D**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N** **: Thank you all for your lovely reviews. It was so nice seeing some familiar names and knowing you hadn't forgotten me. That was awesome! Now, I haven't gotten to answering all my reviews yet, but I will. I've just been working all this weekend, then come home and sat down for five hours and wrote this chapter. Soo… no promises about what I produced. I'm still hoping to wrap this up in five chapters or under… you'll notice my original hope for three chapters has gone by the wayside… because it's me, obviously, and I can never stick to restrictions, even self-imposed ones. It's why twitter isn't for me. 140 characters, pft!, please, not worth my effort. I can't work under those kinds of conditions. Lol**

 **So, anyways, thank you all for taking a chance on this fic and reading. We get a little more information about the 'kitchen incident', but this is mainly fleshing out Ichabod's POV right now. It's a bit more serious, because that is what the muse threw out there today. She's the boss of me, so I don't really have a say.**

 **Hope you enjoy, and I seriously don't know when I'll get time to update again, because this next week is going to be murder at work, but I'll try my hardest to get this story wrapped up as fast as I can.**

 **CHAPTER TWO**

 _The morning sunshine felt good on Ichabod's face as he briskly walked down the street which lead to Abbie's house. He'd declined her offer of picking him up to do the researching of the wilting of the nearby town's crops, instead opting to walk to her house. It was somewhat of an undertaking, the brisk pace he'd set himself still meant it took him just over an hour to arrive at his destination, but Ichabod did not begrudge the time. He had always been an early riser, but sleep was something that seemed to have become his enemy over these last six months. Ichabod would often find himself very much awake at three o'clock most mornings. He'd exhausted all the literature he kept in the cabin long ago, and the lure of the internet had limited appeal. There were only so many cat and ferret videos one could watch before one's patience wore thin._

 _Of course, there were more adult forms of moving pictures on offer to him, but Ichabod found them more disconcerting than titillating. Some inadvertent button pushing of the laptop gifted to him by the Lieutenant had found him being exposed to a couple engaged in energetic sexual activities. For a few minutes, Ichabod had been caught in a kind of haze of horror as he looked at the act of fornification going on in the screen. Both seemed to be a strange orange color, overly muscled and the woman had been endowed with an unnatural roundness to her breasts, which was only slightly less distracting than the amount of makeup she wore. The sex had been loud, both of them screaming obscenities at one another, as they performed impossible feats of physical dexterity out in the open by a pool. The final straw had been when the man had slapped the woman across the face repeatedly, to her seeming enjoyment. If this was what passed for modern lovemaking, Ichabod wanted nothing to do with it. He was no prude, and had seen much in his years as a soldier, but there would never be a point where he could condone violence against a woman, physical or verbal, regardless if she was willing or not. If that was the expectation of this century, then he was happy to remain celibate. Of course, a choice of celibacy also had the added bonus of him not having to ponder further the demise of his marriage to Katrina._

 _The truth was he'd lost his wife long before her death, and that knowledge did not sit well with Ichabod, especially as the loss of Katrina meant he had no recourse left to him by which to fully comprehend what had gone wrong between them. With no way back towards discernment, Ichabod had instead chosen to forge forward into the future. A future which did not include romantic entanglements of any kind. With no real understanding of his failed romantic past, there was no reason to believe he would not repeat the same, unknown and unwitting mistakes going into another romantic coupling. That was unacceptable to Ichabod. As much as Katrina had hurt him, what wounded him most was to know that he'd hurt her in return, and even more painful than that was knowing she'd regarded him as failing her. Such a failing struck at the core of his understanding of both what he'd promised Katrina on their wedding day, and his very understanding of what it was to be a man._

 _To once again voluntarily offer himself to a woman as a romantic partner, when he was clearly so inept at such a task, would be akin to offering oneself as an expert on hunting and be unable to even load a musket. It was unthinkable to Ichabod to place himself in a position to once more be such an utter disappointment to another human being. Which was why, in a perhaps slightly perverse way, he was glad, and even a little grateful of the mantle of Witness. It provided a purpose to the remainder of his days to know that he had something to offer this world which could be relied on. It was the reason he'd thrown himself so whole-heartedly into that role for the last six months. With Katrina and Henry no longer causing a division of his attention, and indeed, clarity of thought, Ichabod had found a renewed vigor with which he now pursued his calling to fight the forces of darkness. And it was with no little gratitude that he'd found a like-minded partner in Abbie Mills to stand by his side to fight in that war. Abbie shared his dedication to the single goal of maintaining the balance between light and darkness with the same determined focus of purpose that he possessed. It would be a lonely, and soul-destroying fight without her unflagging kinship. Which, was a rather roundabout way of coming to the conclusion that he was happy to walk the five miles which had separated them this morning, if that meant they could begin their day together in the common purpose of their calling. To know there was another person as dedicated and focused on this one task was a great comfort to Ichabod. Abbie understood, even without words, she understood and embraced the joint responsibility they shared with the same level of single-mindedness._

 _That thought brought a slight smile to Ichabod's face as he turned into the path which led directly to the front of Abbie's house. The morning newspaper had been carelessly tossed onto her lawn, up along the right side of the house, and Ichabod stepped off the path to retrieve it for her. It only took him a few strides to reach the rolled up newspaper, bending down to retrieve it. As he straightened up, Ichabod caught movement out of the side of his eye, and he turned his head to look through the window which opened into Abbie's kitchen. But instead of the petite brunette walking around the kitchen, Ichabod saw someone entirely different. He stiffened as the naked torso of Nicholas Hawley walked back around the kitchen counter, the man absently chewing on a piece of toast as he read from something on the counter top. Ichabod could only see the top half of Hawley, but there was no reason to believe the bottom half wasn't as unclad as the top. Ichabod's lips tightened as his brain scurried to assimilate the impossibility of a naked Hawley in Abbie's kitchen, and it was taking longer than Ichabod would have liked. Hawley looked up just then, and noticed Ichabod staring at him through the window. The other man looked initially a little caught off guard, then he was sauntering over to the window, leaning on the frame and looking down at Ichabod._

" _Well, hey there," he drawled, "didn't know you had a paper route as well as all that Professoring you do." Hawley took another bite of his toast and chewed on it casually._

 _Ichabod straightened up, squaring his shoulders as he ignored the slight. "I was simply retrieving the Lieutenant's newspaper," he said a little stiffly. "We have a prearranged assignation this morning." The two men stared each other down._

 _Hawley arched an eyebrow. "I hope you're not expecting me to throw down my long blonde locks to get you up here," he said laconically. "Because that ain't gonna happen."_

 _Ichabod's expression was decidedly unamused._

" _It's a story by the brother's Grimm," prompted Hawley at Ichabod's stony countenance. "It's called Rapunzel, a woman locked up in a tower, lets her long hair down to for Prince Charming to climb up."_

" _I am fully cognizant of the tale," said Ichabod disdainfully, "although you misspeak when you claim the tale to be a creation of the Grimm brothers. There have been many much earlier mythologies of just such events. In fact, it was the third century which first told of a story of a trapped woman in a tower. It was from Christian iconography that the tale of Saint Barbara arose, a young woman imprisoned in a tower by her father, and tortured for her Christian beliefs. Those wounds miraculously healed, so her father then beheaded her, and then was promptly struck by lightning and killed himself."_

 _Hawley scratched his blond beard, and regarded him thoughtfully. "Can't see Disney making a version of that story anytime soon. It's hard to find words which rhyme with beheading for the songs." He half-smiled at the still unamused Ichabod. "I'll say one thing for you, Crane, I've never met a man who has such a font of useless knowledge crap on any subject ready to share with folks. Solicited or not."_

" _Knowledge is never useless if one knows how to apply it wisely," said Ichabod sharply._

 _Hawley rolled his eyes. "Okay, whatever. I'm not in the mood to debate knowledge versus wisdom with you this early in the morning. It's too nice of a day which has already been a lot of fun." He gave a little knowing smile._

 _That smile infuriated Ichabod. It was full of surreptitious knowledge that Ichabod meant he was meant to heavily infer things from. Things he was incredibly uncomfortable inferring about. Like the obvious explanation as to why Hawley was naked in Abbie's kitchen at such an early hour, and looking very much at home, eating her toast like this wasn't the first time he'd eaten her toast. The thought struck Ichabod with fresh horror. Had this fraternization been going on longer than just this morning? She'd been dismissive of Hawley's return to town a few weeks back. Had Abbie been intentionally misleading him as to her relationship with this man the whole time? Ichabod's world tilted a little at the thought. He'd just been handing out self-congratulatory pats on the back that he had such a dependable partner in Abbie, one who shared the same goals and committed focus to the cause. To now be forced to consider that she was involved in dalliances with a man who had no commitment to anything other than himself was causing Ichabod a great amount of internal turmoil. They were meant to be two peas in a pod, fighting together, the two of them against the forces of darkness, giving their all to the cause. Not handing out toast to naked men in their kitchens at unseemly times of the morning. And if there were pieces of toasted bread products in need of being handed out, then he should be the one doing the receiving._

 _The oddly territorial thought caught Ichabod off-guard._

 _Had he not just found contentment in the reaffirming of his choice of celibacy for the rest of his life? Hadn't that been the most prudent and responsible recourse to undertake given his disastrous forays into romance thus far? Why on earth would he immediately recant that sensible belief that he had little to offer any woman as a lover at its first challenge? He held Abbie in the highest regard of any woman he'd known in his life. Why would he want to present such a woman who deserved so much more with his inadequacies as a romantic partner? But it had been his first thought, and that knowledge unnerved him the most of any of the previously unnerving thoughts he'd been unhappy to experience that morning. Emotions churned inside of Ichabod, none of which he was proud of, and he ended up choosing the one which would get him in the least amount of trouble._

 _Anger._

 _Having so recently pondered the neat packaging of his own sexuality, it was more than a little unsettling to be confronted with Abbie's, and it made Ichabod mad that she should do that to him. Ichabod didn't want to feel any more pain and confusion. He'd had his fill. Abbie was meant to be his oasis of certainty. His oasis wasn't meant to have naked men in their kitchens. This was a completely unacceptable turn of events._

" _Umm… are you okay?" asked Hawley, looking down at him in vague concern. "You're just standing there, not saying anything. It's kinda weird… particularly for you, because you're always saying something. It's pretty much your thing."_

" _You do not know me well enough to have the first inkling about my 'thing'," bit out Ichabod._

" _Well, you don't seem to be a morning person," said Hawley laconically. "I'm getting that vibe pretty damn strongly."_

 _Ichabod glared up at him. "Perhaps I just have an aversion to my present company."_

" _Careful, Crane, a couple of more cracks like that, and I'll be forced to think you don't like me." Hawley smiled, and gave a careless shrug. "But I guess that's okay, because your other half likes me just fine. You might even say she relies on me for certain… tasks." He ran a thumb over three small scratches on his chest._

 _Unbidden images of Abbie making those scratches in the throes of passion invaded Ichabod's brain, his ridiculous eidetic memory storing away the images he hadn't even seen for future torment. Ichabod's fingers curled into a fist._

 _Hawley seemed to be really warming to his subject as he followed Ichabod's fierce gaze to the scratches on his chest. "What can I say, kittens like to scratch." His smile widened at those words._

 _Ichabod couldn't stand there and listen to this any longer. If he did, he feared what would happen. "I shall return at a later, more convenient time," he said hoarsely, and then promptly turned on his heel and walked away. Ichabod just kept walking, trying to contain the rage and sense of betrayal he was feeling. Abbie had lied to him. It was a lie of omission but it was still a lie. She had sought comfort in the arms of Hawley, and then misled him on the matter. This wasn't how they were meant to be. They were meant to be honest with one another about everything, and Abbie wasn't meant to be having sex. She was meant to be with him in his dark little world, where the only passion was for their calling. They were kindred spirits, she could not abandon him, and for Hawley of all people. Fresh anger coursed through his veins at the thought. The man was wholly unworthy of her. She was so much more than that mercenary deserved, more than any man deserved. Ichabod's chaotic thoughts chased their way around his head as he stalked back along the road he'd just come down. It was going to take him more than a little while to find any kind of peace with this latest development in his life, and he highly doubted he ever would._

 **#**

Ichabod's senses were spinning as he felt Abbie go up on her tip toes, deepening their kiss. She was all softness and curves against him, something he'd resolutely tried to ignore with his ill-humor thus far this evening, but now there was no reprieve from such acknowledgements. Abbie was all around him, surrounding him with her soft, compliant flesh, and it was a kind of heaven on earth Ichabod had resigned himself to never know again. Only it was happening, right there and then, and there was no escaping it, no walking away and trying to find a cooler head. Ichabod's hand moved from Abbie's jaw to her throat, fingers lightly encircling the delicate flesh. His thumb rested against the dip in her collarbone, feeling the dance of her pulse against his flesh. Abbie's hand crept higher, and was now resting on his chest. Ichabod knew she'd be able to feel the ecstatic tattoo his heart was beating out right then, a marked contrast to the delicate, butterfly-like pattering of her vein against his thumb, and didn't care that she should know her kisses were making his heart race. He luxuriated in the taste of her in his mouth, quickly becoming addicted to the sweetness of her. Stopping this madness wasn't an option for him right then, and for some inexplicable reasons, Abbie seemed to be agreeing with him as she returned his kisses with equal investment.

Ichabod didn't even know how this kiss had started. All he knew was that for the last two weeks, he'd felt impossibly far away from Abbie, knowing she was keeping the truth about Hawley from him. He'd done his best to subtly pry the admission of her involvement with the mercenary from her in that time, but to no avail. Each day that passed where Abbie kept a part of her life from him saw Ichabod's frustration growing. Her keeping such a secret from him was like a splinter caught under his skin, everyday working its way in deeper and festering. By the time they'd fallen down this hole together, the irony was not lost on Ichabod that they'd never been so close, and yet he felt impossibly far away from Abbie. Out of that frustration the sniping at one another had been born, and when she'd offered him that lifeline, telling him that he made sense of her world, it had really felt like she'd saved him with those few words. Ichabod had been freefalling since that morning at her house, trying desperately to grab a hold of something solid, but to no avail. The ground continued to shift beneath is feet as he struggled to find his footing with Abbie in light of this latest development. And then, when the ground had literally given way beneath him, Ichabod had found his sure footing again in her admission. Such was the power Abbie held over his equilibrium. In that moment, kissing her seemed like the only way to try and impart all those thoughts and feelings her need of him in her life had wrung from him. It said everything his feeble words couldn't communicate, and possibly a lot more than he probably should. In the end, kissing her was a way to be close again after what felt like an eternity on one side of an ever-widening chasm.

Why Abbie was kissing him was a mystery less easily solved.

Ichabod had no idea why Abbie was allowing their kisses to continue, all he knew was that it was unlikely that he'd find the strength to stop. This was too amazing to contemplate ending it. His life had been nothing but denying himself any kind of happiness for the longest time. There was no strength in him left to stop now he'd open those particular floodgates. Ichabod lost all sense of time in those kisses. He didn't know if a few minutes had passed or a few hours. All he knew was that this was the happiest he'd felt in a long time, and never wanted it to end. "No," he moaned softly as Abbie pulled her lips from his. Ichabod looked down at her, gaze full of concern. Was she about to rain down a harsh rebuttal on his head for taking such liberties? Had she just remembered her lover, and was struck down with guilt? Ichabod searched her face for answers. He didn't find any ripostes to his forwardness, or maybe he was just too distracted by the flush of Abbie's cheeks, the way her lips looked thoroughly kissed. By him. That territorial feeling was back, uncomfortable in its unreasonableness, impossible to ignore in its intensity.

"No," he rasped again, not sure if he could stand another alienation from her right then. He needed this closeness, more than he should, more than was safe for either of them, but Ichabod couldn't help it. Their uneven breaths mingled as both silently regarded each other in wide-eyed wonder at this new development in their relationship. "No," said Ichabod hoarsely, that one word meaning to convey to her that he wouldn't allow a return to the distance between them, to lose once more the natural rhythm they always found around one another. No to sharing her any longer with a world that didn't see her as only he could. But all that was lost in him pressing his lips back to hers. Abbie sighed into their kiss, perhaps tasting all the things he was struggling to give voice to in that moment anyway. Theirs had always been a mysterious communication. Like recognizing like even when they couldn't have come from more separate worlds. The commonality of their beings had always overshadowed the reality of their situations, had done from the moment they'd first met. Ichabod felt like this kiss not only recognized that, but celebrated it. Familiarity in the face of the unfamiliar. Their hallmark. He didn't know where these kisses were going, but for once Ichabod didn't dwell on consequences. All that mattered was the here and now. The outside world could just let them be for a little bit longer.

"Abbie! Crane!"

The sound of their names being shouted from what seemed like not very far away had Abbie giving a small gasp and pulling back once more.

"Abbie! Crane! Can you hear me?"

Ichabod closed his eyes and ground his teeth together in frustration. Yes, he could hear the insufferable man, they both could, and it was like his voice had poured a bucket of cold water down their hole.

"It's Hawley," said Abbie unevenly, blinking rapidly. "He must have come looking for us." She seemed to be trying to compose herself. "Better late than never, I suppose."

Of those two options, Ichabod knew which he'd chose. Never. He'd recently discovered that his objections to being buried in the ground was not so much the being buried part, but being alone in there. Faced with the reality of extradition from his latest hole, Ichabod had an overwhelming reluctance to leave it. Or maybe the reluctance was more based in the fact that he was once again going to have to share Abbie with the source of the initial contention between them. A contention which hadn't been truly sorted Ichabod realized, as Abbie still hadn't confided her relationship with Hawley in him. Apparently that was something their kisses drove from both of their memories for a few blessed minutes.

"Hawley, we're down here!" shouted back Abbie.

"Abbie?" yelled back Hawley, sounding closer.

"Yes, here, we're here!" she called back. Abbie was craning her head all the way back, looking up at the opening above their heads. "We're getting out of here." She looked back at him, face full of relief. "I thought we might be here all night." When Ichabod made no attempts to share her relief, Abbie's expression became suddenly worried. "Crane, listen to me, I need—" Abbie didn't get to finish her sentence because Hawley's blond head was suddenly at the opening to the hole.

"Hey, that's some hole you guys are in," he volunteered. "It's really long and narrow."

"A firm grasp of the obvious as always," said Ichabod acerbically, but he was watching Abbie's expression carefully at the appearance of the other man.

"Don't critique the hole," she instructed Hawley a little impatiently. "Just get us out of here."

Hawley gave that annoying, lop-sided grin of his. "What's in it for me?"

"You get to retain the use of your legs," offered up Abbie flatly.

"I do like it when you threaten me with physical harm," said Hawley cheerfully. "It's kinda sexy. Although I'm pretty curious as to how you'd manage any kind of maiming with being in that hole and all."

Abbie fixed him with a hard look. "You've met my sister, right? Used to be in a mental institute."

"Outsourcing your torturing - a woman who thinks outside the box, what more could a man want?"

"Hawley," groaned Abbie in frustration, "just go and get us a damn rope already, okay?"

"Only if Crane asks me nicely," he teased them.

Ichabod glare up at him was full of icy daggers.

"Okay, okay, I can see your senses of humor have been buried in that hole with you. I'll go and get some rope." Hawley disappeared, but then his head was briefly back. "Don't go anywhere, okay?" He gave a little laugh at his own joke, and then was gone again.

Ichabod looked at Abbie, unable to believe she'd allowed such an annoying man into her bed.

"Again with that look," said Abbie in exasperation. "Enough already. I'm not apologizing for Hawley anymore. He's not my responsibility."

Ichabod envied Abbie's seemingly easy ability to compartmentalize her life in such a way. If only he was so similarly blessed. Hawley might be about to get them out of this hole, but Ichabod was less certain as to how he was going to get himself out of the hole his impetuous kisses had just dug for them both. Abbie's thoughts on what had just transpired between them were impossible to discern from her expression.

"We'll get out of the hole and then talk, okay?" she offered up, and blushed a little. "Because that was, you know, a little… umm…" Abbie cleared her throat, moving against him as she suddenly avoided his gaze. "We'll talk."

Ichabod nodded slowly even as he had no idea what he wanted to say to her. Everything he wanted to say was overstepping boundaries, but seeing as he'd already trampled more than a few of those this evening, did it even matter at this point?

Abbie broke the lengthening silence between them as she looked back at him. "This not talking thing you're doing of late… I don't like it."

"I am endeavoring to understand what it is I want to say," said Ichabod a little hoarsely.

Abbie bit her bottom lip. "I know the feeling," she said with a sigh.

"I'm back, did you miss me?" asked Hawley brightly.

Ichabod's gaze never left Abbie's face. "In a word, no," he said in annoyance.

"Incoming," said Hawley cheerfully, dropping the rope down to them. "So, did you talk to my guy already or what?"

"I think 'or what' pretty much sums up this evening," murmured Abbie.

Ichabod was forced to agree with her as he reached up and grabbed the dangling rope. Tonight's events were most definitely in the 'or what' category, and Ichabod really needed to know what Abbie was thinking right then. He was both dreading and longing for that talk Abbie had just promised him. The paradox of making your way in previously uncharted territories. Ichabod just hoped by the end of this evening he wasn't going to be stuck in another hole, one that was going to be a lot harder to climb out of.

 **A/N** **: And now let's see if I can write my way out of this particular corner… or hole if I stay in theme, I guess. The who, what, where and why will start to unfold in the next chapter… kinda… after, you know, stuff. Hope you'll join me. :D**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N** **: Hi guys, back again, with a chapter sooner rather than the later I assumed it was going to be. Thank you to all who are reading, and of course, the wonderfully kind people who fave/follow and review. You are the light to my moth… which sounds vaguely sexual, but I promise you it isn't… unless you want it to be… then we can maybe talk. ;)**

 **(Side note – if I winked as much in real life as I do in writing these A/N's, I'd be institutionalized by now, and rightly so)**

 **Okay, this chapter… I have a confession to make – I like Hawley. I know that's not a popular opinion amongst a lot of Sleepy Heads, but I do. First of all, he's pretty… you can never have too much pretty if you ask me. Second of all, I liked where he and Ichabod could have gone – that whole frenemies thing finding a common ground. I didn't have an issue with him at all and thought he was a fun character… although they did struggle how to balance out him and Jenny. Jenny used to be the one with the secret contacts and getter of magical weapons. But that wasn't an insurmountable problem, they just needed to think it through better. And I don't mind a bit of jealous!Ichabod, as predictable a trope as it is. Hawley probably won't be back, but I wouldn't say no if he did pop up again.**

 **And so, this fic has Hawley in it just because I wanted to have fun with him and Ichabod… and I have. Whether you have fun with it remains to be seen. And I promise, by the next chapter, you'll know where I'm going with this, and some light will be shed on the title of this fic. That's definitely a thing which is going to happen.**

 **Hope you'll join me for that. :D**

 **CHAPTER THREE**

Abbie dusted herself down, very conscious of the fact Ichabod's eyes continuously returned to her as they cleaned themselves off after finally escaping their dirt-laden prison. He looked anxious, clearly worried about what she was going to say about their surprising make out session in the hole. Abbie shared his concerns. She didn't really know what she was going to say either. The thing was she'd never viewed Ichabod in a romantic light before. He was married. Abbie simply did not allow herself to ever go there with any married man. Even though she considered it unlikely she'd ever marry, given her circumstances, it was an institute she very much believed in. Marriage was also something she knew Ichabod took very seriously. He'd loved Katrina, very much. Or rather, he'd loved the woman he believed Katrina to be. It occurred to Abbie that Katrina had told so many half-truths to Ichabod over the years, that he'd fallen in love with a phantom, and when confronted with the real Katrina, he'd struggled to recognize his bride. To his credit though, Ichabod had never stopped trying, because he was a man of his word and this was his wife. Abbie had seen that and respected him all the more for it. Besides, they were the Witnesses, most of their time together was consumed with just staying alive, and trying to stop the end of the world. It was hard to get romantic in those kinds of situations. "Although apparently holes are the exception," she muttered under her breath.

"Lieutenant?" Ichabod was immediately leaning in close, expression intent. "Did you say something?"

They both knew she had, but Ichabod's uncertainty told her he hadn't quite caught it. Which was probably a good thing. "Nothing."

Ichabod managed to look both disappointed and relieved. Abbie didn't know quite how he managed that feat. She figured it was the eyebrows. Ichabod had crazily expressive eyebrows. Abbie sometimes thought that if he lost the power of speech, his eyebrows would still be able to communicate with people.

Ichabod raised an uncertain hand to his forehead at her staring at him. "Do I have dirt on me?"

"No," said Abbie quickly, vaguely embarrassed she'd been caught staring at him. But then, she was standing right in front of him, staring at the man, so it wasn't like it was that big of a surprise. Subtlety didn't seem to be her thing tonight… if the staring and the kissing was anything to go by. "No, wait, yes, you do have dirt on you," she corrected herself distractedly. "Left a bit."

Ichabod scrubbed at his face, removing the telltale signs of their misadventures. If only everything about tonight was going to be so easy to erase. Assuming erasure was something she wanted, of course. Abbie didn't even know. Ichabod no longer having Katrina as his wife was one thing. And the obvious fact that the man hadn't dealt with his wife's untimely demise at his own hand was another pretty pertinent fact that warranted considering. But all that aside, they were still the Witnesses, ordained by God, fate, the universe, whatever you wanted to call it, to be the two who stood against the oncoming darkness. Office romances rarely ended well at the best of time, and their office was responsible for the fate of mankind. What if they decided to pursue something between them, and it didn't work out? Abbie remembered how awkward it was with Luke after their break up and there had only been hearts at stake then. These were all a lot of thoughts she was thinking, and they were in no particular order. Abbie knew she'd have to get them into some kind of order to talk to Ichabod about what had just happened between them. She could see in his eyes that her promise of them talking was not something he'd be willing to put off for another day.

"That's a real nice hole," declared Hawley, hands on knees, bent over looking down the hole. "You don't see craftsmanship like that anymore. Look at those walls, as smooth as a butter." He nodded appreciatively. "Yep, that is a fine-looking hole."

Ichabod made an impatient clicking sound. "If you're finished with your ode to the hole, you can go now."

Hawley straightened up, and arched an eyebrow. "Is that the British way of saying thank you for rescuing me? Because I can see why your empire is dying out. Politeness costs nothing, you know."

Abbie rolled her eyes at him. "Shut up, Hawley."

He pointed a finger at her, and winked. "On you it's adorable."

Abbie felt Ichabod tense beside her. There was enough going on tonight, she didn't need Hawley thrashing about in what were already muddied waters. "Crane's right, we've got it from here. Thanks for the help, but I'm sure you've got better things to be doing tonight."

Hawley shrugged. "Goes without saying. So, did old man Hinton help you out with the book?"

"We have yet to make his acquaintance," admitted Ichabod a little stiffly.

Hawley smirked. "Because you fell in a hole, right?"

Ichabod looked put out at being forced to admit any missteps to the other man.

"I thought you were this big time woodsman? Don't you guys normally have a sixth sense about holes? I mean, they're not that hard to spot, it's where the dirt isn't."

Abbie shook her head at Hawley's relentless teasing of Ichabod.

"Maybe you should write that down for future reference?" Hawley made a show of patting his pockets. "I'm sure I've got pen and paper on me somewhere."

"Are you completely done with your mockery?" bit out Ichabod.

"I feel like I've got a few more in me, which you pretty much owe me, because you know, I rescued you from the hole. Hole rescuers get to make fun of the rescuees, it's like a rule nowadays."

Ichabod gave a grunt of annoyance. "You are truly the most vexatious man I have ever known."

Hawley grinned. "Why thank you, Crane, I think you're real pretty too."

Ichabod took a step towards Hawley, and she put herself between the two men. "Okay, that's enough! Tonight's been long enough. I don't need you two idiots throwing down to top it off." Her look was pointed at Ichabod. "Just ignore him."

"I would, except his soul reason for existence seems to be irksome," ground out Ichabod.

"Let it go, Crane, he's just trying to bug you." She looked between them. "Besides, we've still got things to do tonight."

Ichabod's attention was instantly fully on her, and Abbie realized he thought she was referring to their talk. "We have to see about the book," she said quickly.

A flash of disappointment crossed Ichabod's face, but then he was immediately nodding. "Yes, of course." He hesitated. "Unless the lateness of the hour precludes a visitation."

"It's nine o'clock," said Hawley dryly. "I realize that might be past your bedtime, but anyone under a hundred and fifty years old can usually make it until at least nine thirty."

Ichabod exhaled a noisy breath of exasperation at Hawley's continuing needling of him. "Then we have a mission to complete, and your presence is redundant," he said sharply. "You may go now, Hawley."

"Okay, again with the rudeness. I'm not one of your slaves, Crane, you don't get to dismiss me."

"I did not have slaves!" exclaimed Ichabod roundly. "In actual fact, I fought by the side of—"

Hawley held up a hand. "Okay, okay, I can't stand another round of historical name dropping." He looked Ichabod over. "Which none of us can validate, mind you. You could tell us you and Betsy Ross used to have a thing."

"It was one date, and we were chaperoned," said Ichabod disapprovingly.

"Seriously?" asked Hawley, taken aback.

"It was the custom of the day," he said tightly.

"That wasn't the surprising part, Crane," said Hawley in vague amusement.

"In any instance, you may go now." Ichabod waved a dismissive hand at him. "The Lieutenant and I have this well in hand."

"Now that you're out of the hole. You know, the one I saved you from," said Hawley laconically.

"You didn't save us, we were in no danger." Ichabod's gaze drifted over to Abbie.

She moved a little restlessly on the spot, not entirely sure that was true. Things were getting decidedly perilous in that hole.

"I definitely saved you both," said Hawley confidently. "I'll add it to your tab. Say hi to old man Hinton for me. Try not to make direct eye contact. He doesn't like that."

"Oh, now you're a font of information on our contact," said Ichabod acerbically. "You did not think to mention the hole booby traps undoubtedly littered around here before sending us on our way?"

"Hey, the hole things weren't here last time I came by, just the bees."

"Bees?" repeated Abbie in surprise.

"Yeah, Africanized ones. He had them strategically placed around the place."

"And you didn't think _that_ was worth mentioning?" asked Abbie in mild horror. "I'm allergic."

"Did not know that," said Hawley, and then shrugged. "But they're bees, they buzz. Just don't go near the buzzing thing. It's not exactly hard. As booby traps go, I never thought it was all that."

Ichabod's lips tightened. "Unbelievable. The man is a never-ending stream of smart-mouthed comments, but actual useful information he remains decidedly mute. Your logic defies understanding."

"Hey, I just assumed you'd noticed the bees, and could tell holes in the ground when you see them," shot back Hawley. "Forgive me for giving you the benefit of the doubt."

"Okay, enough," said Abbie tersely. "This is getting us nowhere. Come on, Crane, let's do this already." She looked up at Hawley. "Is there anything else we should know about this Hinton before continuing on?"

"Nah, that's it."

"No attack dogs, no trip wires?"

"Wasn't last time… although he does have a couple of angry ferrets. Again, just don't make direct eye contact, and you should be fine. They take that as a sign of aggression."

Abbie sighed heavily. "Is that it?"

"Your partner is kind of an uptight dick, but I feel like you already know that."

"Unbelievable," muttered Ichabod under his breath, expression darkening.

Hawley chuckled, clearly pleased to have gotten the last dig at Ichabod in. "Okay, I'm outta here, seeing as my good deed for the day is done. Let me know how it goes with Hinton and his iguanas."

"You said he had ferrets," said Ichabod sharply.

"Only to keep the iguanas company," he said casually.

Abbie screwed up her face. "Wouldn't the iguanas eat the ferrets?"

Hawley shrugged. "I don't know, maybe they're not the same ferrets all the time. I don't really take any notice." He grinned at them. "So good luck with that." With that, Hawley sauntered off, rope slung over his shoulder.

"That man is truly infuriating," bit out Ichabod as he watched them leave. He turned and looked at Abbie. "And obnoxious and puerile and—"

"And gone," finished off Abbie, as she looked back to where Hawley had been seconds ago, and now only dark forest remained.

"Finally," huffed Ichabod, dusting himself down one final time with unnecessary vigor. "I have encountered plagues which were easier to dispense with."

Abbie put a hand on his arm, stilling his movements, eyes glued on where Hawley had just been. "No, seriously, Crane, Hawley's gone."

Ichabod stopped patting himself down, and followed Abbie's line of vision. "He merely carried himself away swiftly."

Abbie's hand went to her gun on instinct, resting on the butt of it. "No," she said, lowering her voice, "that was too quick."

Ichabod immediately followed her lead, as they both carefully but determinedly started to retrace the route Hawley had just taken. Out of the corner of her eye, Abbie saw Ichabod looking up, scanning the gnarled branches above their heads. Nowadays you never knew where an attack could come from. Flying nasties were just as likely as earthbound ones. They moved purposely forward, with Abbie debating whether calling out Hawley's name would be a good idea, when they heard some coughing. They both stopped, and quickly looked at one another. Then Ichabod was striding forward to where the sound had come from. Abbie was close on his heels. Suddenly in front of them was another hole, the sticks and leaves used to hide it now displaced. The reason for the displacement was at the bottom of the hole. Something Ichabod was quick to point out.

A smirk came to Ichabod's lips as he peered down the booby trap. "Well, I never," he said in obvious enjoyment, "a hole." His smirk widened. "One you seem to find yourself at the bottom of, Mr. Hawley. How very interesting, and you with all of your raiding of tombs, and bypassing of booby traps experience. It is hardly fathomable as to how such a fate could befall you."

There was a loud sigh from the bottom of the hole. "Just get the gloating over with and help me out of here, okay?"

"Oh, I feel like I do not wish to rush the gloating," countered Ichabod sweetly. "Not after it is so richly deserved."

"You're an ass, Crane, you know that?"

"Mayhap, but I am an ass at the top of the hole, not at the bottom."

"This time," shot back Hawley swiftly.

"My encounter with the holes were before we knew of their existence," said Ichabod in barely concealed satisfaction. "You, however, knew full well of the danger, and yet still managed to find yourself at the bottom of one such hole."

"You keep talking, and I'm going to start praying for this thing to cave in on me," snapped back Hawley, his earlier humor gone.

"A prayer I will happily join you in."

"My hand is on my gun," said Abbie flatly as the men continued to snipe away at each other. "Don't make me shoot the two of you."

Ichabod was still smiling as he straightened up from talking down the hole to Hawley. "Allow me my simple pleasures, Lieutenant." He was clearly enjoying this change of fortune regarding the other man.

"Just help me get him out of the hole so we can get this night over and done with already," she said in exasperation. "We've been out here for hours and all we've got to show for it is dirt in our hair and pockets, and no spell book."

Ichabod was staring at her, and Abbie immediately knew he was thinking that was not all they had to show for their evening so far. There were those kisses. Those totally irresponsible, embarrassingly shameless, and impossible to forget kisses. Ichabod's gaze drifted to her lips, and she knew she wasn't the only one finding them hard to forget. Ichabod dragged his gaze back to meet hers, confusion in their depths, confusion and something else a lot more concerning to Abbie. Ichabod took a step closer to her, and Abbie knew she should do or say something to break the spell between them, but she was as trapped as he was by this sudden, irresistible pull between them. Ichabod slowly dropped his head, stopping just before his lips touched hers. Abbie knew this was her chance to be the level-headed one, to save them both. All she had to do was turn her head, and Ichabod wouldn't pursue the matter, she knew that for certain. Ichabod's warm breath was on her lips, and Abbie knew she had to do the right thing. She went up on tip toes and closed the small space between them.

Apparently her brain and her body disagreed on what the right thing was to do.

No other part of their bodies were touching other than their lips, but Abbie could feel that kiss all over her body. She hadn't imagined how good of a kisser Ichabod was. There had been some notion, in the back of her head, that once they were out of that hole, back to their reality, then Ichabod's kisses wouldn't have the same impact on her. She was wrong, so very, very wrong. Abbie felt herself begin to sway, her legs suddenly forgetting what they were meant to be doing, but then Ichabod's hands were immediately cupping her face, steadying her, and helping to deepen the kiss. His long fingers snaked their way into her hair, his palms warm against her cheeks. Abbie raised her hands to Ichabod's wrist, optimistically telling herself it was to get him to remove his hands. It wasn't. Instead she clung to him tightly, feeling as though if she didn't, she might fall off this wildly tilting earth altogether.

Abbie had no idea why she'd let Ichabod kiss her the first time. She had even less idea why it was happening again. After three years of friendship based in mutual respect and understanding, Abbie didn't understand anything all of a sudden. She blamed Ichabod's kisses. Nobody should be that good at kissing. It was unnatural… unnatural and addictive. Ichabod's lips moved back and forth over hers, tongue gliding over her bottom lip, making her toes curl, like she was some stupid teenager sneaking out for her first kiss. Abbie knew she was going to hate herself later for this, but her lips parted, inviting him to taste her more deeply, like he had before. Ichabod wasn't slow in accepting the invitation, his tongue finding hers and engaging in a slow, torturous dance that had Abbie's stomach churning in delicious anticipation.

"Hey, are you guys still there?" The vaguely concerned question drifted up from the hole. "Because if this is a joke, I'm not laughing."

They broke the kiss, and Abbie looked up at Ichabod guiltily. She'd completely forgotten about Hawley. That was bad. This whole situation was bad. Except for the kissing… which was intoxicatingly addictive… which was worse.

Ichabod looked similarly shell-shocked, but that was quickly covered with irritation.

"Mills, Crane! I mean it, stop dicking around here!"

"We are here," said Ichabod tersely, stepping back from Abbie with a look of regretful reluctance. He walked back to the hole and looked down.

"You both stopped talking," said Hawley accusingly. "What were you two doing, braiding each other's hair?"

Ichabod ignored the question, for which Abbie was eternally grateful. "Where is the rope?"

"I have it."

"Throw it to me," Ichabod instructed him.

"I can't, my arms are trapped. These holes are real narrow you know."

"Yes, I recall," said Ichabod, glancing over at Abbie who was still trying to collect herself after their latest round of lip locks. Neither one of them needed a reminder of just how close a fit it was in those holes, especially for two people.

 _What was wrong with them?_

"Do you have more rope?"

"Yes, it's in my SUV."

Ichabod looked at Abbie. "I will fetch more rope."

"Don't fall down anymore holes," she cautioned him. "I can't pull both of you out of these things." Both men would easily weigh twice as much as her. Abbie didn't like to admit defeat with anything, but sometimes basic mathematics just won out over an indomitable spirit.

"You could probably manage to pull Crane out of one of these holes. Most of his weight is in that coat of his," said Hawley cheekily. "Take that off and he probably weighs less than you, Mills."

Ichabod was immediately outraged. "We are of the same stature, Hawley, although granted, your mouth must account for at least a third of your body weight," he sniped back.

Abbie shook her head at their relentless feuding, continuing on as though they hadn't spoken. "Not to mention my desire to rescue either one of you is dwindling pretty damn fast here."

"I will away," said Ichabod a little stiffly at her censure of him.

"Crane, holes," she warned him one last time.

"Now that I have seen the technique which the holes are disguised, that will not be an issue," said Ichabod confidently.

"Famous last words if ever I heard them," chimed in Hawley.

Ichabod paused by Abbie as he went to leave, voice low as he addressed her. "Are we absolutely certain that simply closing in the hole would not be the simplest recourse here, Lieutenant?"

"I heard that, Crane!" shouted Hawley. "Just go and get the damn rope."

Ichabod made a show of rolling his eyes, and then he was heading back into the woods.

Abbie walked over to the hole's edge once he was gone, and looked down at Hawley. "Why do you have to needle away at him like that?" she asked in exasperation.

"Because it's fun," said Hawley without hesitation. "Come on, Mills, don't tell me you don't like to wiggle that giant stick up that guy's butt from time to time, just for the hell of it."

"Crane and I have an understanding." At least they used to. They'd rib each other over different things, but that was old Abbie and Ichabod, the ones who pre-dated the kissing Abbie and Ichabod. She could only hope that this new pair had retained their sense of humor. She had this sinking feeling they were going to need it. "We generally try not to be obnoxious to one another when we poke fun at each other. You should give it a try."

"Hey, I would, but Crane just makes it too easy. The guy can be a real dick, and the fact that nobody points that out to him on nearly enough occasions, means I've got no choice but to step into the breach, and you know, hand out some truth bombs." Hawley's white teeth glowed in the darkness as he grinned. "I feel like it's my civic duty."

"Oh yeah," said Abbie dryly, "because you're all about the civic duty, right?"

"Sometimes."

"Sometimes or just when you know it's going to get under Crane's skin?"

"I can't help it if I love my work."

Abbie straightened up, and folded her arms in front of herself. "What did you say to Crane that morning when you were at my house?"

"What do you mean?" asked Hawley innocently.

"I mean, he seems to think we're sleeping together. Where do you think he'd get an idea like that?" Her look was one of decided censure. She and Crane had enough issues. Abbie really didn't need Hawley getting into the mix as well.

Hawley attempted a shrug in his confined space. "How would I know?"

"Maybe because you told him we were?" she suggested in annoyance.

"I absolutely did not tell Crane that we were sleeping together," said Hawley emphatically. "How is it my fault that he sees me and just assumes women want me in their bed?"

Abbie's eyes narrowed. "Don't make me rethink my position on closing this hole in on top of you, Hawley."

"I didn't tell Crane we're sleeping together," he insisted. "If he got the wrong idea, that's on him, not me."

"So, you didn't lead him up any garden path at all?" she grilled him. Abbie knew Ichabod wouldn't have jumped to such a conclusion without someone giving him a decent push. She gave a little grimace as a muscle in her leg cramped. Abbie rubbed it absently. "Because I know Crane didn't get that idea from me."

"Hey, the guy's a dinosaur, okay? A man and woman making direct eye contact is like third base from where he comes from. He's got easily offended sensibilities."

"Actually, he doesn't," retorted Abbie.

"Really? Because I was forced to listen to a ten minute rant from him on bumper stickers. They're bumper stickers, get over it."

"I meant Crane is very progressive when it comes to understanding people." The frivolities of modern life were something else again. "They had sex back in his time too, you know."

"Probably weird, uptight sex where nobody got naked," muttered Hawley.

"Even you can't believe that." Abbie felt a pain in her midriff and she put a hand to it, pressing against it hard. "You're just being a j-jerk—" She gasped as a shooting pain radiated out from her stomach. It was so intense it stole the breath from her body, and dropped her to her knees.

"Mills?" asked a concerned Hawley. "You okay?"

Abbie opened her mouth to try and speak but only a pained grunt passed her suddenly numb lips. Her whole body felt like it was both on fire and freezing cold. She started to shake wildly, the violence of the pain she was in like nothing she'd ever felt before. Abbie felt like she was dying. Collapsing on the ground, she felt as though her lungs were filling up with liquid concrete, making each breath she was attempting to draw an exercise in increasing futility.

"Mills! Abbie! What's happening? Are you okay?"

Abbie could hear Hawley yelling out the anxious questions, but it was like he was a long way away as dark spots began to dance before her eyes. She drew in one last strangled breath of air which felt like it solidified in her lungs, and then those dark spots were getting bigger as she slipped away into nothingness…

 **A/N** **: Fun fact, just saw (after writing this chapter, mind you) that they've cast Betsy Ross for S3 of SH for a guest appearance. Guess we're going to find out a little bit more of what went on between those two after all. ;)**

 **And, oh yeah, cliffhanger. But you've probably already worked that out by now.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N** **: Hi guys, uber long chapter for you. I tried to split it, but nothing really happens in the first part of the chapter, so I felt guilty about not giving you the answers I'd promised. So, you get the whole banana, as the saying goes… actually, is that a saying? Oh well, it is now.**

 **I just get caught up in these characters interacting. Abbie and Ichabod end up having a particular conversation in this chapter that would never be on TV, for a variety of reasons. But I like the aspect of fanfiction where you can explore these kind of really human interactions between characters that a show can't do, because they have restricted time to push the narrative.**

 **Of course, a strong argument could be made for me to try and push a bit more story narrative rather than dick around with all this conversation business… particularly when I just wanted to write a little 'sorry I'm not doing the sequel to Jargoggling' piece and now, 20 000 words later, I'm still going. Argh, sometimes I drive myself crazy!**

 **But, in the interest of sharing the annoyance around, I give you this chapter… which isn't that great of an intro, I know… just try and pretend it was a better one, okay? Fantastic, let's crack on… :D**

 **CHAPTER FOUR**

Ichabod had just located the extra rope in the back of Hawley's SUV, slinging it over his shoulder before turning back around to return to the trapped man. And to the Lieutenant. Ichabod's hand tightened on the rope at the thought of the young woman. That second kiss had caught him off-guard, even though, as with the first round, he'd been the one to initiate it. Abbie had been talking about the fact they had nothing to show for their evening, but even as the words had left her mouth, Ichabod could see she was thinking about their previous kisses. One minute he was drowning in the memories he could see in those brown, expressive eyes of hers, and the next thing Ichabod knew was that he had to be kissing her. It was like there were all of these invisible threads running back and forth between them, and they'd suddenly tightened all at once, and being apart seemed like an impossibility.

A pretty description, but Ichabod was struggling to find the words to truly encapsulate what was happening between them, let alone coming close to understanding them. He'd worked with Abbie for nearly three years now, and held her in nothing but the highest of esteems. She challenged him, made him smile with that dry wit of hers, stunned him with that fierce intelligence and relentless spirit. A romantic overtone between them was not something Ichabod had considered before now. He'd been a married man, one who was in love with his wife. There was no justification for entertaining any kind of tender thoughts about another woman, ever. Although, even as he thought that, Ichabod knew he did have an affection for Abbie which he'd found no comparison to in any of his other relationships. They were unique, and since their first introduction, Ichabod had been happy to settle on that as a descriptor for their relationship.

But then things changed.

Katrina was now lost to him, and maybe she always had been, even when he believed them to be partners in all things. There were still so many unanswered questions there. Questions he'd never have resolved, which Ichabod struggled with. It made him feel undone, which was an intolerable situation for him to try and reconcile. Then, amongst all this confusion, he'd gone and made advances to the one person in his life who made sense to him. Was there some kind of self-destructive bent to his nature whereby he didn't believe himself due any happiness, any kind of peace? Was there some force inside which drove him to fracture his dearest relationships? Abbie was beautiful, staggeringly so, but Ichabod was not a man to lose his head over a pretty face. It would be simpler to chalk up his recent actions to pent up frustrations of the carnal kind, only it wasn't. Sex was freely available in this society, as it had been in his. If all he required was a release of desires, than there were many avenues he could have explored. Kissing his best friend was not the only recourse open to him.

Only it had been the only recourse he could fathom in that moment.

Not kissing Abbie had seemed like as great an impossibility as sprouting wings and flying to the moon. But why now? Why had all this confusion entered his head and heart about the roles he'd set for both of them in their friendship? An answer came to Ichabod that he wasn't entirely comfortable with. Abbie's relationship with Hawley had shocked Ichabod, pushed him out of his inertia. She still denied there was an entanglement, and Ichabod wanted to believe her, more than anything, but this all felt so horribly familiar. With Katrina there seemed to be no end to the falsehoods and half-truths he continually discovered. Each time she'd had a denial, or a justification, and Ichabod had clung to them desperately, only to have his faith shattered and confidence in their relationship waver. He knew Abbie wasn't Katrina, but the insecurities lingered and caused him uncertainty.

Ichabod was not a person used to wavering. He'd always known his own mind, had always seen the right thing to do clearly. This self-doubt and uncertainty was new to him. Once he'd seen the world in black and white, now everything around him was shades of grey and full of shadows. The one thing in sharp relief in his world had always been Abbie. Now, somehow the lines between them were blurring, and as much as Ichabod feared that shifting understanding, he also couldn't pull back from it.

Ichabod's footsteps slowed as he thought about their kisses. Apparently walking and remembering the way it had felt to kiss Abbie was something he couldn't quite manage. He unconsciously ran his tongue along his bottom lip, fancying he could still taste her there. His heart gave an unsteady lurch at the thought… and made him crave more. Ichabod's lips tightened in fierce opposition to those feelings. He would not reduce what was between them to purely the physical. That was a disservice to their friendship, and most certainly to everything the Lieutenant stood for. To diminish her to a simple object of desire was demeaning and unacceptable. Ichabod gritted his teeth as a terrible reality washed over him that refused to be silent on the matter. Despite all of his opposition and protestations against the very idea, Ichabod knew the reality of his desire for Abbie was now as inescapable as that blasted hole they'd been trapped in.

"Mercy," whispered Ichabod in quiet anguish at that prickly truth. The revelation was an uncomfortable one for two reasons. The first was that he didn't want Abbie to ever think that him finding her desirable as a woman in anyway superseded all the other ways in which he admired her. That was vitally important to Ichabod. This was not about simple lust, and for her to ever think that might be the case was an intolerable thought to him. The second was that he didn't have the first clue about what to do with this epiphany. Abbie was his partner, his fellow soldier. The last cohort in a war he'd fallen in love with was Katrina. He'd acted on his feelings for her then, and that had ended very poorly for all concerned, particularly Katrina. Would Katrina's life had been happier, more contented without him following his heart and pursuing her? It was hard to imagine that it couldn't have been. Katrina herself had cursed the day she'd allowed him to love her in the end. If Ichabod chose to explore this new facet to their relationship, would Abbie one day be making a similar proclamation? That thought caused an actual fissure of pain to run through his body, ending up in his heart.

"Crane! Crane!"

Ichabod was jerked out of his reverie by a shifting wind bringing the sound of Hawley's voice calling his name. It was from far away, but the note of panic in its tone was unmistakable. The fact that Abbie's voice wasn't present in calling for him brought Ichabod to only one possible conclusion. "Abbie," he breathed fearfully, immediately breaking into a run. Ichabod dashed through the dark woods, easily navigating the shadows and uneven ground and avoiding the scattered booby traps. Had Abbie fallen down another hole, as had Hawley? It was possible, but Ichabod had enough confidence in Abbie's ability to doubt she'd fall victim to the same trap. Maybe there were new dangers installed by the landowner which she'd become entangled in? Ichabod's imagination ran wild as he raced back to where he'd left the other two. He burst through the trees to find Abbie lying on the ground, looking a little shell-shocked.

"Lieutenant!" he said urgently, immediately moving to her side. "Are you alright? What happened? Were you attacked?" Ichabod's rapid questioning gave her no time to answer as he glanced around, making sure there was no present threat to their safety. He crouched down beside her, putting a hand on her arm. "Are you injured?"

"I-ah-no, I'm okay," she said unsteadily, gingerly propping herself up on one hand.

"No, you're not," called out Hawley from the hole. "A couple of minutes ago she was in agony."

Ichabod searched her face, concerned with this information. "Lieutenant, is this true?" She was a little pale, and looked confused.

Abbie shook her head, but then recanted her own denial. "Yes, but it's… I'm fine now. The pain is gone."

He cupped her face with one hand, thumb running over one cheek in an unconscious display of physical familiarity. It wasn't usual between them, but then, nothing about tonight seemed usual. "Lieutenant," he said softly, worry etched into the single word. Something wasn't right. Ichabod could see that in Abbie's demeanor. Her robust state of being was absent, replaced by an unfamiliar frailty. "What happened?"

Abbie blinked a couple of times. "I don't know. One minute I was fine, then the next I-I… wasn't," she trailed off, and then bit her bottom lip. "I don't know what happened."

"You collapsed screaming, that's what happened," volunteered Hawley from his hole, sounding just as worried as Ichabod felt. "You need to go to hospital, get checked out."

When Abbie didn't immediately respond with a terse dismissal of such a suggestion, Ichabod knew this was serious. He moved to pick her up.

Abbie immediately balked, pulling back. "What are you doing?"

"Ambulation in your current state is not to be recommended," said Ichabod quickly. "I shall carry you to the car."

This earned him a scowl. "I can walk, Crane."

"Are you certain of that fact? Also, even if you prove to be able to walk, it is undoubtedly ill-advised to do so until we ascertain what ails you."

"Man, that was a convoluted sentence," sighed Hawley.

"There was nothing convoluted about that statement," snapped Ichabod over his shoulder in the general direction of the hole. "And the sentiment is a sound one."

"You're not carrying me," said Abbie stubbornly, the usual force to her tone returning. She abruptly stood up, dusting off a few clinging leaves. "I'm fine."

Ichabod hastily straightened up as well, looking her over. "I do not believe that to be the case, Lieutenant."

"It's passed, whatever it was," she said in an attempt at dismissal of his worry.

"The very fact we do not know what 'it' is demands that we investigate this further." Ichabod wasn't giving up on the notion of medical attention for Abbie.

Abbie opened her mouth to argue further with him, but then she closed it again. She put her hands on her lips. "Fine, but I'm doing the walking and the driving."

Hawley's exasperated voice was back with them. "You can't drive, Mills. That's just crazy. What if you have another seizure? I'll drive."

"I can drive," said Ichabod without hesitation.

"You don't have a license," pointed out Abbie.

Ichabod grimaced. That had been a niggling problem for him. It was difficult to have the correct documentation required to ascertain a driver's license with his background.

"I'll drive you both," said Hawley in frustration. "Just get me out of this damn hole already."

Ichabod hesitated.

"Get him out of the hole, Crane," said Abbie calmly.

Ichabod made an irritated sound. "I would prefer to get you to medical attention swiftly."

"Hey!" said an annoyed Hawley. "You're not leaving me in this hole, got it?"

"You are not my primary concern right now, Hawley," said Ichabod tersely.

"What if she collapses and you're driving?" shot back Hawley. "You need me."

"I'm not going to collapse again," said Abbie in exasperation. "I feel perfectly normal now."

Even so, Ichabod couldn't help but notice she wasn't doing away with the notion of consulting with a medical professional. That fact was incredibly worrisome to him.

Abbie reached for the rope over Ichabod's shoulder. "Here, I'll get the idiot out of the hole if you won't."

Ichabod pulled back, so she was unable to take the rope from him. "Absolutely not," he said in horror. "You may have sustained internal injuries from your fall into the hole. Physical exertions is not to be entered into under any circumstances until we know fully the state of your condition."

"Fine, just get Hawley out of hole already," she shot back. "I'd like for this night to end at some point."

Ichabod had mixed feelings about that sentiment, but right then he didn't have time to ponder them. He hurried over to the hole, and looked down. "We're doing this quickly and then you're driving both the Lieutenant and myself to the hospital? Is that understood?"

"Less talky, more ropey, Crane," said Hawley impatiently. "I got earthworms down here I'm on a first name basis with."

Ichabod didn't bother with a retort, just started to retrieve the bothersome man from the hole.

Twenty minutes later they were at the hospital. Hawley had dropped them at the front entrance before heading off to find a park, agreeing to meet them inside. It had felt like it had taken an eternity to get there. Ichabod's gaze had barely left Abbie the entire time, fearful she would once again collapse. He kept his stride purposely shorter as they walked the halls of the hospital, heading towards the Emergency Department. Normally Abbie had no trouble keeping up with him, despite his much longer legs, but Ichabod did not wish to cause her any undo exertion in her current state, whatever that might be. The only trouble was, it was taking them far too long to get where they were going at this rate. Ichabod idly wondered how bad his injuries would be if he suggested carrying her again, or perhaps employing the services of one of those wheeled chairs would result in a less vehement dismissal. His musings were interrupted by them finally reaching the front desk. Ichabod addressed the woman behind the counter with unintentional irritation.

"Good evening, Madam," he said with attempted cordiality, "we require the assistance of a practitioner of medicine with hastened immediacy, seeing as we have already traversed what is frankly a ridiculous distance from the entrance of this place of healing to where your department is presently residing. It makes little to no sense to me to have such little planning in the location of the area of your establishment which is meant to provide aid which boasts of being of the first nature and then expect your wounded to traverse such a vast distance. It is oxymoronic in its expectation."

The middle-aged woman behind the counter gave him a long-suffering look, and then moved her gaze to Abbie. "You want to break that down for me?"

"We'd like to see a doctor, please."

"Please God tell me it's for you," said the nurse dryly. "It's already been a long night."

Abbie half-smiled. "It's for me."

The nurse's gaze flicked over to Ichabod, sizing him up. "Good. You need to fill out this paperwork." She went to reach for the appropriate papers.

Ichabod made an impatient clucking sound. "We do not have time for such trifles. The Lieutenant may well be suffering from injuries of an internal nature. Any further delay would be an unconscionable exercise in endangering her health."

The nurse seemed unmoved by Ichabod's impassioned censure. She looked at Abbie. "You need a pen, honey?"

Abbie nodded. "Yes, please."

The pen and paperwork was handed over and Abbie nudged him. "This way." She walked over and took a seat.

Ichabod immediate took a seat beside her. "That woman did not take my concerns seriously," he complained.

"You don't say," murmured Abbie as she perused the paperwork on the clipboard. She went to start filling out the questionnaire but the pen fell from her hand.

Ichabod bent down to retrieve the pen, and straightened up to find Abbie grimacing at her hand as she attempted to open and close it. He frowned. "What's wrong?"

"I-ah-my hand," she muttered, "it's gone numb or something." Abbie shook it, frowning at the unresponsive limb.

Ichabod immediately took her hand and squeezed it. Abbie's hand was troublingly cold. "You are just chilled from our evening in the woods." Ichabod offered up the reassurance, not really believing it, but wanting desperately for it to be true. He held her hand to his chest and covered it with both hands, rubbing it to restore some circulation. "It is uncommonly cold tonight." Only it wasn't, but Abbie didn't argue with him, clearly needing the assurance as much as he did.

Abbie forced a tight smile to her lips. "Yeah, that'll be it." She let Ichabod rub her hand for a little bit longer, and then gently pulled it away.

Ichabod reluctantly let her go. "Is that better?"

"I think so." Abbie reached for the pen again, but her hand gripped the instrument stiffly, and Ichabod could see she was still struggling to hold it properly.

"Allow me to be your personal scribe for the evening, Lieutenant." He took the pen and clipboard from Abbie, not giving her a chance to argue. "It was a routine task for me when I was in the employ of Benjamin Franklin."

Abbie gave a little laugh to cover her frustration. "Hawley is right, you do name drop a lot."

"I cannot help the fact of my previous acquaintances," said Ichabod easily, starting to fill out the paperwork. "They are a matter of recorded history."

"I guess," she said wryly, watching him fill out the first series of questions.

Ichabod noted down Abbie's name, address and date of birth in his neat, cursive script. He continued on filling out the questionnaire without requiring any information from Abbie.

"You know my social security number?" she asked in surprise.

"You showed it to me once, and it's only a nine digit number," he said dismissively, already having moved on to other questions.

"That eidetic memory of yours strikes again, huh?" asked Abbie wryly.

Ichabod moved one shoulder in a half-shrug. "I suppose it does." Abbie was leant up against him, reading over his arm as she kept an eye on his answers. Ichabod put all of his attention on the task at hand, and not how it felt to have her pressed up against him like that. Acknowledgement of the pleasure the feel of her against him once more was not something likely to help their circumstance. What this whole situation really called for was for Abbie to be seen by a doctor. This ridiculously detailed paperwork stood between them and that happening. Ichabod pressed on with his question-answering mission with renewed determination, noting down her previous medical history of a broken arm when she was eight and a case of chicken pox when she was twenty one.

"I guess you really do pay attention when I talk," said Abbie in mild surprise as Ichabod accurately noted down information from their previous conversations. Conversations that were often held late at night, while staking out a place, or waiting on an informant, where they'd just share their lives with one another in idle chatter.

"Is that not the purpose of conversation?" asked Ichabod, still furiously writing down all the required information. He came to the next question – date of last period – and filled it in without thinking. Ichabod felt Abbie stiffen beside him, and he immediately looked at her in concern. "Lieutenant, are you alright? Are you in pain?"

"How did you know that?" she asked stiffly.

He looked at her blankly. "Know what?"

"The date of my last period."

Ichabod looked back at the date on the paper, and then back at her. "Is that not correct?"

"Yes, it is, but that wasn't my question." She was looking at him with a mixture of confusion and vague distrust.

Ichabod immediately realized his social faux paus in his haste to have the annoying paperwork completed. He scowled at his own stupidity. "I am sorry, Lieutenant. I did not mean to overstep any boundaries between us." _Any more of them, at least._

"You're not answering my question, Crane," she said impatiently.

Abbie was justifiable concerned about how he should know such a delicate fact about her personal life. Ichabod scrambled to try and explain himself. "Well I-it's just that…" he cleared his throat. "I noticed you would have an extra sugar in your coffee on occasion for two days in a row, and then would skip coffee for the next day. Over time I realized this was happening every month, on the same days, and simply put it down to—"

"Me having my periods?" said Abbie a little irritably. "Seriously, Crane, you paying that much attention is kind of creepy."

"I pay a great deal of attention to many things," said Ichabod a little stiffly. "It is in my nature, and not directed towards you in particular. I have always seen patterns in things, and my habit is to make sense of them. This is an inclination on my behalf not to offend, but instead to make order of a disordered world." He gave a small grimace. "I'm sorry if I have caused offense, Lieutenant. Most of the time I do not realize I am doing it." That was true. It hadn't been a subconscious conclusion Ichabod had come to regarding Abbie's habits, one he'd not given any thought to until the paperwork had demanded him sourcing that information. Which he had done, unthinkingly so, much to his chagrin now.

Abbie still looked unsettled by his revelation, frowning up at him. "So, what, you know my sister's time of the month too?"

Ichabod gave a short shake of his head. "No, I do not see her every day, it is impossible to recognize such a pattern if I do not see her every day." His lips tightened as he realized how that must sound. "Not that I spend my days pondering such matters."

"Only you kind of do," she said a little accusingly. "Otherwise we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Ichabod gave a short sigh of exasperation at not being able to communicate this better. "When in deep thought, Irving uses his thumb to rotate his wedding ring three times clockwise, and two times counterclockwise. He will do this repeatedly until broken from his reverie. Hawley always tugs on his right ear when he sees a woman he is physically attracted to."

Abbie's eyebrows shot up. "He does?"

"Yes, I don't want to know that, I simply do." Ichabod was at pains for her to understand. "I am unable to stop my brain from collecting data and applying meaning to it. It is unconscious and it most certainly not—" He hesitated, not sure of his next word.

"Personal?" supplied Abbie, looking at him very seriously.

"Yes," rasped Ichabod, although now, with the two of them staring at each other, it suddenly felt like personal was the only thing it could ever have been. Those strings were tightening between them again, he could feel it. Every ounce of willpower was currently employed in not letting his gaze drop to Abbie's lips once more. The now familiar tension was back between them. He could see in Abbie's eyes that she knew what he was thinking.

"Don't you dare." She gave the whispered warning in such a way that Ichabod wasn't sure if she was talking to him or herself. Abbie's expression became troubled. "What is wrong with us?" she asked unevenly. "Why can't we stop—" She drew in a strangled breath, unable to complete her sentence.

Ichabod lost the fight with his willpower, and his eyes dropped to Abbie's lips. What _was_ wrong with them? Why was this pull between them suddenly so irresistible? "Perhaps the earth we were trapped in was enchanted?" Ichabod dragged his gaze from her lips to look at Abbie to see if she in anyway might believe such a fanciful thought.

"Crazy kissing dirt?" she offered up unsteadily.

Abbie was still leaning against him. They were too close for Ichabod to have a chance of reining this moment in. He swallowed hard. "Our lives are filled with strangeness and curiosities, it is not outside the realms of possibility that the old man employed the services of a Sharman or witch to enchant his grounds to ward off intruders and perhaps the spell was merely meant to discombobulate and it has affected us a certain way because we are the Witnesses—" Suddenly Abbie was grabbing the front of his shirt and cutting off his ramblings, pulling him into a kiss. Ichabod instantly forgot his frankly dubious attempts at justifying their behavior tonight, instantly consumed by her kisses. "Lieutenant," he groaned against her lips, overwhelmed to find themselves in this situation yet again. Abbie gave a short shake of her head, and resumed their kiss, clearly not wanting to talk anymore. Ichabod shared her reluctance to do anything other than lose themselves in these intoxicating kisses, but even the rapid pounding of his heart couldn't completely drown out his worries. He broke the kiss. "You-you may be hurt," he managed breathlessly. Her pained seizures still weighed heavily on Ichabod, and he didn't want to do anything to hurt her further. Besides, what kind of man made advances on a possibly injured woman?

"Finger's crossed," murmured Abbie, moving to kiss him again.

Ichabod drew back in horror. "Do not even jest about such a thing, Lieutenant," he said hoarsely.

"Brain damage would explain a lot," offered up Abbie, almost casually.

"A trauma to the brain is the only way for you to make sense of-of this?" asked Ichabod in disbelief.

Abbie sat back in her chair, lips twisting in self-derision at her own lack of control. "It's better than your dirt theory."

"My dirt theory, as you call it, doesn't end in your death," said Ichabod hotly. He was inexplicably stung by the fact that Abbie would rather imagine herself hurt than to be kissing him of her own volition.

"I'm not planning on dying from whatever this is," shot back Abbie. "But you've got to admit, neither one of us is acting like ourselves tonight."

"Because of a few kisses?" he said tersely.

"Yes, and there were more than a few."

That sounded somewhat accusatory to Ichabod and he stiffened. "I wasn't keeping count."

"Either was I," said Abbie quickly, "but seeing as our previous record of number of kisses was zero before tonight, and now it's definitely not zero, it makes a girl wonder what the hell is going on." She looked at him expectantly.

Ichabod hesitated. "I have no answer to that question."

"Then I'm hanging onto my brain damage theory."

"I kissed you first." Ichabod didn't know why he felt the need to be so stubborn about this, but he did.

"Okay, you can have brain damage too. Happy now?"

"Ecstatic," said Ichabod flatly. They were back to arguing again, which was most likely safer than the kissing, but Ichabod knew which he preferred.

"The doctor will see you now."

Ichabod started a little at the sudden reappearance of the nurse by their side. He hadn't even seen her approach. "We haven't finished the paperwork," he said guiltily.

"It can be finished in the room. The night has slowed down a bit at last, so folks aren't having to wait as long."

"Good," said Ichabod in relief. No matter what his state of confusion might be regarding Abbie, the one thing he wasn't confused about was her need to see a doctor and have it confirmed that she was alright.

"Also, we try and keep things in the ballpark of PG13 around here."

Ichabod frowned, not understanding the reference. He looked at Abbie who was pressing her lips together tightly and blushing a little.

"Cause, you know, kids present and all."

Ichabod immediately took her meaning, glancing over at a child sitting on his mother's lap over to their left, a toy car jammed halfway up his nose and a glass jar stuck on one hand. Another person he was just noticing for the first time, which was a little surprising, given the state of said person. "Ah," he said, mortified that he'd paid no attention to his surrounds in returning Abbie's kisses. She didn't look any happier about that fact either.

The nurse took the clipboard from Ichabod, and motioned for Abbie to follow her. Ichabod went to stand, but the nurse shook her head at him. "You can wait here. We don't allow crowds in the examination room."

"I am but one man," protested Ichabod. "I fail to see how I could crowd."

"Okay, fine, it's policy then," said the exasperated nurse.

Abbie shook her head at him. "It's okay, Crane, just wait here. They'll just check me out and then we can go."

Ichabod reluctantly sat down. He didn't want to hold up the process of finding out what was wrong with Abbie any longer. "Very well." Ichabod watched Abbie follow the nurse to the room at the end of the hall, the two women disappearing inside. Ichabod leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling, trying to find the patience to sit still. He straightened up and caught the disapproving eye of the parent of the young boy. Ichabod wasn't in the mood for the woman's censure over a few moment's indiscretion. "It would serve you well not to judge, madam," he said a little snippily. "Your child currently has a small vehicle lodged in its nasal passages and a jar on its hand. You clearly have bigger concerns in your own life to vexate over other than the conduct of two consenting adults. An example of which would be, why it is exactly your offspring didn't simply stop at either the toy or the jar, but felt the need to impale himself on both? Surely one or the other would have been sufficient to garner your attention?"

The woman gave a sniff of offence at Ichabod's rebuttal of her disdain. It was uncommonly rude of him, but his worry over Abbie meant he had little thought to spare for that right now. The woman turned in her seat, making a show of ignoring him, which suited Ichabod just fine. It was only a minute later that Hawley made an appearance.

He looked down at Ichabod. "Abbie's in with the doctor already?" Hawley asked in surprise. "That was quick."

"If you say so," said Ichabod a little moodily.

Hawley folded his frame into the seat beside Ichabod, instantly noting the child across from them. "Whoa, someone went for broke tonight." He gave a lopsided smile at the child. "Way to go, kid." That earned him a glare from the boy's mother. Hawley made a face. "And someone's a little sensitive tonight."

Ichabod didn't own up to his part in that sensitivity. Instead his gaze remained steadfast on the closed door to Abbie's examination room.

"How long has she been in there?"

"Less than five minutes."

"I'm hungry." Hawley twisted in his seat, looking around. "Did you see a vending machine around here at all?"

"No."

"This is going to take a while. I'm getting something to eat." Hawley stood up. "You want anything?"

Ichabod gave a short shake of his head. Eating was the last thing he felt like doing right then.

"She's going to be okay, Crane."

Ichabod looked up at him. "On what are you basing that declaration?"

Hawley shrugged. "Because she's a Mills. Those women are indestructible."

"That is absurd, no one is indestructible," said Ichabod impatiently. He grimaced. "But thank you for your attempts at reassurance nonetheless."

Hawley shrugged. "Probably low blood sugars. Food will fix that." He headed off and Ichabod was left to his worrying in peace. In fact, it was nearly an hour before he got to see Abbie again. He and Hawley were finally allowed into her room and it was a relief to see Abbie again, even if she was covered in wires attached to machines making intermittent beeping noises.

Beside Abbie's bed was a confused looking doctor, staring at the monitors.

"How are you feeling, Lieutenant?" asked Ichabod as soon as he walked into the room.

She smiled at him. "Good."

Ichabod looked her over, seeing nothing to contradict her declaration, and then his attention was on the doctor. "And the medical opinion about this matter is in agreement?"

The doctor scratched at his chin. "Ah, well, I guess."

"You guess?" said Ichabod in open disdain.

"It's just that her vitals were a little weak, but now they're not." The doctor looked between Abbie and all the monitors. "And I don't know exactly why."

"You don't know?" repeated Ichabod. "Is there something wrong with the Lieutenant or not?"

"Probably not," said the doctor hesitantly.

"Probably not?" said Ichabod with real ire. "Is that what your many years in medical school has gifted you with by way of an answer? _Probably_ not?"

"Crane, calm down," said Abbie with a note of censure in her voice.

"I am calm," snapped Ichabod, his attention not leaving the flustered doctor. "Do you have anything to add to your vague statement at all? Do you know anything about the Lieutenant's condition, or are we to settle for the vagueries of your _probably not_ and require nothing further of your seemingly inadequate skill set?"

"He means what the hell, man," translated Hawley. "Tell us what the problem is already."

"I don't know, okay," said the doctor defensively. "I've never seen vital signs like this before. Ms. Mills' heart rate was slow, and her pulse, her O2 sats were down, as were her internal body temperature, but I can't find any reason why any of those things should be happening. And now, everything has returned to normal."

"So, I can go then?" pushed Abbie. "If everything is back to normal."

"Oh well, I-ah-I should probably talk to the senior doctor on call first," stalled the young doctor. "See if he's seen anything like this before."

"Indeed," said Ichabod impatiently, "perhaps that should have been your first recourse when it became clear you had not the first idea what you were doing. Something to ponder for the next time when you find yourself a hapless fool in the face of dispensing the duty charged to you."

Hawley leaned over towards the doctor. "That was a verbal bitch slap," he said helpfully, "just in case it didn't translate, or you nodded off halfway through all those words." Hawley gave a wry smile. "Cause God knows, you wouldn't be the first person Crane has talked into a stupor."

"I find your commentary as unnecessary as your presence, Hawley," bit out Ichabod.

Hawley grinned. "I do what I can."

Abbie made a sound of impatience. "Would you two give it a rest already? You're like children."

"He started it," they chorused as one. Ichabod glared at Hawley for that, but Hawley just seemed to find Ichabod's ire amusing.

Abbie's attention was now on the doctor. "And you, go and get your second opinion already. It's past midnight. I want to get out of this bed and into my own at some point." She held up an imperious finger at Hawley. "Don't. Whatever crack you were going to make about me and a bed, I don't want to hear it, got it?"

"So bossy," complained Hawley. Then he winked at her. "I like a woman who isn't afraid to tell a man what she wants."

Ichabod was instantly annoyed at Hawley's flirting, and opened his mouth to tell the man this was neither the time nor the place, but Abbie was ahead of him.

"Don't, Crane, he's just doing it to annoy you." She was back looking at the doctor. "And you, why are you still here?" Abbie made a dismissing gesture with hand. "Go already."

The doctor gave her a wide eyed look, but then he was scurrying off to do just that.

"Men," muttered Abbie under her breath, "they're all insane and trying to drive me crazy tonight."

Ichabod immediately felt guilty for any undo anxieties he might be causing Abbie. "Is there anything you require of me, Lieutenant?"

"Other than not bickering like a schoolkid with this idiot?" she asked sharply. Abbie pursed her lips. "Coffee."

"Are you allowed such a beverage?" asked Ichabod, slightly worried.

"I'm going to say yes, because nobody seems to be able to tell me anything anyways," she said in irritation.

Ichabod inclined his head. "I shall fetch you a coffee then." He withdrew from the room, just happy to have something useful to do at last. Sitting around and waiting was not something Ichabod found easy. He walked briskly down the hall in the direction Hawley had sourced his food stuffs from that night. Ichabod was at the end of the hallway when he heard Hawley calling his name.

"Crane!"

Ichabod swung back around and raced back towards the other man.

"Her vital signs are dropping again," said Hawley urgently.

Ichabod burst back into Abbie's room. "Lieutenant!" He walked up to her, and laid a concerned hand on her shoulder.

"I-I'm okay," said Abbie unsteadily, looking at the monitor. "It's okay, everything is back to normal now."

"I shall fetch a doctor, a more competent one, if this establishment boasts such a thing," said Ichabod determinedly. He strode towards the door once more. Ichabod had only managed a few steps down the hallway before Hawley was calling him again.

"Crane, wait."

Ichabod turned and looked back at him impatiently. "What is it?"

"Come back here."

"But—"

"For once in your life, don't argue, just get back in here," said Hawley impatiently.

Ichabod gave a grunt of annoyance and walked back to Abbie's room, standing in the doorway. "What is it?"

Hawley was staring at the monitor but lifted his hand to beckon Ichabod closer with a crooked finger. "Come closer."

"Why are you insisting on wasting time in this manner?" snapped Ichabod.

"Just shut up, and come closer."

Ichabod made a clucking noise of disapproval, and then stalked his way into the room.

"Stop," Hawley ordered him, still watching the monitor. "Now back up again."

"For the love of all that is sanity, what is the point of this?"

"Back up and I might be able to tell you."

"Do it, Crane," said Abbie, now staring at the monitor too.

Ichabod retreated to the door.

"A little bit more," said Hawley.

Ichabod made another grunt of impatience but did as he was asked. The beeping of the monitor slowed.

"Okay, come back," instructed Hawley.

Ichabod drew closer to Abbie, and as he did, the beeping of the monitor sped up again. Now Hawley had his full attention. "What is happening?" asked Ichabod slowly. "Why does this device slow and hasten in accordance to my presence?"

"It's not the monitor that's doing the slowing down and speeding up," said Hawley. "It's Mill's vital signs."

Ichabod met Abbie's concerned gaze. "What does that mean? In what way can my proximity be affecting the Lieutenant's wellbeing?" In an attempt to prove Hawley's hypothesis as incorrect, Ichabod retreated to the doorway again. Once more, the beeping machines indicated Abbie's vital signs declining. Ichabod immediately walked towards her, and this was reflecting in the machines.

"Well, that's… concerning," said Abbie at last, still staring at the monitors. She looked at Ichabod. "I didn't start to feel any discomfort out in the woods until you went to get the rope. The worst of the pain was when you would have been the furthest away from me," said Abbie slowly. "And then when you came back, the pain went away."

"Something happened to you two out in the woods," said Hawley. "Something that's making you need Crane around to survive." He pulled a face. "Ugh, talk about a fate worse than death."

"This is no time for jokes," said Ichabod sharply.

"Trust me, I wasn't joking," said Hawley straight-faced. "What happened with you two tonight? Did anything out of the ordinary happen?"

Ichabod shared a guilty look with Abbie. "No," they said as one.

"You were both in a hole, but so was I, so that can't be it." Hawley tugged at his beard as he thought. "Was there anything else that you did that could explain what is going on?"

"Nothing comes to mind." Abbie sent Ichabod a warning look. "Crane and I fell in a hole, got stuck there, and then you came and got us out." She suddenly frowned. "What was in that flask you gave us for the old guy?"

Hawley looked suddenly worried. "Why?" He grimaced. "Please tell me you didn't drink any of that stuff." Hawley looked between them. "Right? You didn't drink anything in the flask?"

"Why, what was in the flask?" asked Ichabod intently.

"It was whiskey," said Abbie. "It tasted like whiskey."

"It _tasted_ like whiskey?" repeated Hawley in distress. "Are you kidding me? You drank what was in the flask?"

"Again, what was in the flask?" asked Ichabod forcefully.

"Stuff you shouldn't be drinking," said Hawley flatly.

Abbie sat straighter up in bed. "Could you narrow that down a little bit for me? Just how bad is this?"

Hawley hesitated. "Truthfully?"

"Sure," said Abbie acerbically, "let's set sail in those previously uncharted waters."

"I have no idea," admitted Hawley, "but I'm leaning towards this being bad, possibly very, very bad."

"You gave us a potentially life-threatening potion without any word of warning?" asked Ichabod in horror.

"That's because you weren't meant to drink it!" shot back Hawley. "What kind of crazy person puts something they don't know what it is in their mouth?"

"Isn't that a normal Friday night for you?" asked Ichabod bitterly.

Hawley jabbed a finger at him. "Hey!" he exclaimed. "Basically true, but still… hey!"

"The Lieutenant's life is endangered because of you," said Ichabod hotly.

"This is in no way down to me! I just gave you something to trade for the spell book. How was I supposed to know you'd take that as an open invitation to use it on yourself? Lucky I didn't give you the disemboweling cutlasses instead, otherwise this night could have been a whole lot worse than it already is!"

"Stop shouting at each other and tell me what do we do next?" Abbie yelled at them. "What was in the flask, Hawley?"

"Nothing that should be doing this," he said unevenly. "It's just like an elixir of life kinda deal. You know, puts a bit of a spring in your step."

"Does the Lieutenant look like she has a spring in her step?" asked Ichabod angrily.

Hawley screwed up his face. "Yeah, that's not quite right."

"What precisely is the name of the concoction?" Ichabod demanded to know.

"My Hebrew isn't great, but the book that I got with the flask called it the Nogah, which is meant to give you extra brilliance or something."

"There's a book?" asked Abbie quickly. "A book that could tell us what is going on?"

"It's in Hebrew, but yeah, there's a book."

"I can read Hebrew," said Ichabod.

Hawley rolled his eyes. "Of course you can."

"Where is this book?" Ichabod demanded to know.

"In a safe place."

"Hawley," said Abbie impatiently.

"Look, it's okay. I can take you to the book. It's not a big deal."

Abbie started to pull the leads from her body. "Great, let's go."

"We can't get the book right now. We have to wait."

"We most certainly do not have to wait," said Ichabod in outrage. "We do not know what that potion is doing to the Lieutenant. Haste is of the essence."

"I get that, but like I said, the book is in a safe place, and we have to wait for a little bit to get to it."

Ichabod and Abbie exchanged looks again. Ichabod didn't care if the book was at the bottom of the deepest lake, or atop the highest peak or guarded by beasts of the underworld – nothing would stop him from retrieving it to undo the wrong done to Abbie.

"Where's the book, Hawley?" said Abbie sharply.

"It's in the bank."

"The bank?" Abbie blinked. "Okay, that felt anti-climatic for some reason."

"I have a safety deposit in the bank in town. I keep some of my important stuff there. It doesn't open until nine tomorrow morning." Hawley glanced at his watch. "Check that, this morning, it's past midnight."

"Can we not access this safety deposit earlier?" asked Ichabod in vexation.

"It's a bank, Crane, they get weird about you just coming in out of hours and helping yourself." Hawley wrinkled his nose. "Learnt that the hard way."

"So we wait until morning," said Abbie slowly.

"Yeah, we wait, and as long as you two don't let each other out of eyeshot, then it's probably going to be okay."

"There's that word again," grumbled Ichabod. "Probably. I was hoping for more of an assurance than that."

"I was hoping to be in the arms of a beautiful woman by now, Crane, or at the very least, drunk." Hawley inclined his head. "As a rule, life can be pretty disappointing, at least in my experience. You two just stick together, and who knows, by the morning, maybe this stuff would have worn off?"

"Or gotten much worse," said Ichabod morosely. He hated not fully understanding what was going on.

"Way to go glass half empty on this one, Crane," said Hawley sarcastically. "Or should that be flask half empty seeing as you two seemed to be having sculling competitions with the one I gave you."

"It was me, I took the drink, this wasn't down to Crane," said Abbie soberly.

"And why did you feel the need for alcohol in the first place? Was it because you were in a hole with a pompous doofas? My money is on a big old 'hell yeah' with that one."

Ichabod's expression clouded over. Hawley was right. This entire disaster of a night was his fault, from beginning to end. He'd failed to notice the booby trap in the first place, then he'd been churlish to Abbie while they'd been trapped and had driven her to look for a distraction in the form of the contents of that flask. Now Abbie was stricken with some malaise that had no rhyme or reason to it, and the possibility that the outcome could be a fatal one for her was all too real. Was it his lot in life to endanger and ultimately end the life of everyone foolish enough to allow him into their lives? Ichabod was scared to answer his own question as he looked at Abbie and silently vowed to make this right, if it was the last thing he did on this earth.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N** **: Hey guys, nice to see you hanging in there with this story. I'd hoped that this would be the final chapter of this story. It's not. It's going to take at least another two chapters to wrap this puppy up. Urgh! I hate that I can't get to the point quickly, I really do. I blame Hawley and Ichabod in this story. Them sniping at one another is too much fun. I kind of get carried away. This chapter at least lets you in on what is happening a bit more, so that's something.**

 **Oh, and before I forget, one of my lovely reviewers, opheliablack was asking me about something in another one of my stories – Love Potion #9 I believe it was. As she was a guest, I couldn't reply directly, so I'll do it here. Yes, the double entendre thing is absolutely intentional and ingrown after years of growing up watching British comedies like 'Are you Being Served' and 'The Two Ronnies' and 'It Ain't Half Hot, Mum'. There is definitely a generous dose of that history in Bunny's exchanges with the others. I just can't help myself. Lol**

 **And now, back to this story. Another long chapter. I really do have to work on that. Lots to still go down and there will be a body count in this story, just a heads up, there will be more than one.**

 **Okay, with that vaguely ominous warning delivered, here's the chapter. Hope you enjoy, and I'll see you in the next.**

 **Cheerio. :D**

 **CHAPTER FIVE**

Abbie sat in the front seat of Hawley's car, body relaxed as she dozed lightly. At least she was trying to sleep. Sandwiched between Ichabod and Hawley, waiting for the bank to open, Abbie was very conscious of Ichabod staring at her intently, even though her eyes were closed. "Stop that," she muttered in vague annoyance. "I'm not dead." Abbie felt Ichabod stiffen against her, obviously surprised at being caught out.

"Your breaths were shallow," he protested a little stiffly. "I was merely making sure you were not—"

"Dead?" supplied Abbie flatly. She opened her eyes and looked up at him. "I'm not dead, Crane, I'm just trying to sleep. It's been a long night."

"Indeed," sighed Ichabod, brows knitting together.

"And you can stop that too," she ordered him. "This isn't your fault." It was hers. Abbie was still mad at herself for being so careless and drinking from that flask. It had been just been a stupid thing to do, and she wasn't a fan of stupid.

"How is it not my fault?" asked Ichabod sharply. "The entire events of last night were down to my many errors in judgement, starting with not noticing the obvious booby traps laid out in the area."

"I drank from the flask," she retorted. "This was my fault."

"You drank from the flask because of—" Ichabod shot Hawley a look from where he was sitting behind the wheel, staring out the window and apparently ignoring their conversation. "Reasons we are both cognizant of."

Ichabod was intentionally refraining from mentioning their sniping at one another in Hawley's presence and Abbie didn't blame him. She wasn't exactly proud of her behavior in that hole either, and that was before they got to the kissing part.

"I'm an adult, Crane, I made my own decisions. You're not to blame."

"Well, I'm definitely not to blame," said Hawley, suddenly joining in on their conversation.

Both Abbie and Ichabod looked at him.

"You share a large portion of the blame," said Ichabod hotly. "All you had to do was reference what it was exactly you had given to us, and none of this would be happening."

"No, none of this would be happening if being in an enclosed space with you hadn't driven Mills to drink," shot back Hawley. "I mean, I get it, trust me. I could do with a couple of beers right now."

"It's not even nine o'clock in the morning," said Ichabod with open disdain.

"I know, right? I wanted to start drinking two hours ago when you insisted we come and sit outside the bank at seven o'clock in the morning," said Hawley tartly. "Frankly, I should get a medal for my restraint so far."

"There may have been a worker at the bank whose habit was to start work at an earlier hour." Ichabod defended his insistence on the matter.

"Yeah, well, there wasn't," said Hawley flatly.

"It was worth taking a gamble on the matter."

"My numb ass says differently."

"Nobody wants to hear about the state of your buttocks, Hawley."

"Hey, there are women lining up around the block to find out about the state of my buttocks, Crane."

Ichabod arched an eyebrow. "And can you see those supposed women now, Hawley? Or are your deluded fantasies about your desirability to the opposite sex entirely contained to your imagination?"

"Hey, hands up who has had sex in the last two hundred years?" shot back Hawley, immediately sticking up his hand and then pointing a finger at him with the other hand. "Not so fast, Crane."

"In what deluded world would you believe yourself to have the first insight into such an aspect of my private life?" snapped Ichabod, obviously stung by the comment.

"The same deluded world where you think you know anything about my sex life," countered Hawley sharply.

"I can unhappily lay such a claim as you take it upon yourself to boast openly of your many conquests, which frankly demeans yourself as well as the young ladies involved, who, let's be honest here, have most likely suffered enough with their involvement with you."

"Oh, like you're in a position to give out pointers about how to keep a woman happy. At least none of the women I've slept with have tried to kill me!" Hawley paused briefly. "And chasing me down with their cars and trying to run me over doesn't count. That was more of a spirited misunderstanding and I was only in the hospital for two days."

Ichabod snorted. "Clearly you have quite the understanding of the gentler sex and are able to bring out the best in them when their understanding of playfulness involves a two ton vehicle bearing down on you," he said sarcastically. "And I have to say, God speed to each and every one of them with you in their headlights."

"You're wishing me dead now, Crane? When all I've tried to do is help you?" asked Hawley in disbelief.

"You do not have to be dead. Just mute. The removal of your head should achieve that goal quite nicely."

"Oh, if anyone needs to dial back the talky talky, it's you, Crane. It takes you three days to say hello."

"If you removed your presence, then you would have no need of me saying hello, or any other kind of greeting."

"Hey," said Abbie suddenly, "I've just had a thought." Both men looked at her expectantly as she sat between them. Without missing a beat, Abbie reached up with both of her hands, and slapped both of them around the head.

"Ow!"

"Argh!"

"Thought over," she declared in annoyance.

"We are sorry for our bickering, Lieutenant," said Ichabod unevenly, rubbing his ear. "You do not need such anxieties in your present condition."

"Don't apologize for me, Crane," snapped Hawley. He looked at Abbie, looking a little embarrassed. "Sorry."

"I just need the two of you to pull on the big boy pants and get along for the next half hour," she said tersely. "Because apparently I need both of you right now, and pushing you both out of the car and driving off isn't an option." Abbie folded her arms in front of herself. "Although don't think I haven't given it serious thought. Nothing could be worse than this."

"I fear that not to be the case, Lieutenant," said Ichabod seriously. "Until we find out the true nature of your malaise, your present condition could be the lull before the storm."

Abbie looked up at him. "Okay, was that totally necessary? I know this isn't good. You don't have to tell me that I'm screwed."

"You are not… screwed." Ichabod stumbled over the word. "I have promised you that we will make this right. I stand by my assertion and my promise."

"Could you stand by it a little more quietly when it comes to Hawley?" she asked in exasperation. "Seriously, I feel like sending both of you to your room for a time out."

Ichabod's lips tightened. "Your censure of our recent behavior is warranted. I am sorry, Lieutenant."

"Yeah, you really need to work on your people skills, Crane," chimed in Hawley.

A muscle in Ichabod's jaw ticked wildly, but he impressively didn't rise to the bait. "The doors are opening," he noted. "We may retrieve the book and shed some light on your condition."

Hawley went to get out of the car. "I'll be right back."

"We're coming," said Abbie quickly. She nudged Ichabod to get out of his side of the car. "Come on." When he hesitated, Abbie sent him an exasperated walk. "I can walk, Crane. I keep telling you, I'm fine."

Ichabod didn't look over convinced but he climbed out of the car, holding the door open for her.

Abbie slid out of the car, grimacing at her stiff legs. She rubbed them distractedly as she stretched a little. Abbie went to take a step and stumbled, her legs surprisingly uncooperative.

Ichabod grabbed her arm in a flash. "Lieutenant?"

Abbie glared up at him. "Stop fussing over me like an old woman, Crane," she snapped and then felt immediately guilty. Abbie was frustrated at her own weakness and taking it out on him. "Sorry," she muttered. "I guess I'm not a morning person, or at least my legs aren't. They're still half asleep." Abbie really needed to believe the numbness in her legs was because she'd been sitting for so long, and for no other reason.

"Perhaps we should wait in the car after all?" suggested Ichabod quietly.

"No, my circulation is coming back." Abbie suspected however that was due to the fact Ichabod was still holding her arm, despite her rebuttal of his help. She could feel the warmth of his touch coursing through her body where his flesh was against hers. It was like she was siphoning Ichabod's energy directly from his touch into her flagging reserves. Abbie didn't want to acknowledge how much she needed Ichabod's touch right then, but he must have seen something in her expression as he regarded her intently.

"I will not leave you," he vowed, voice low so that only she could hear him. Ichabod hand tightened on her arm. "As always, we face this new challenge together, and as always, we will triumph."

Abbie managed a half smile. "Your pep talks are getting peppier," she said dryly.

Ichabod's lips twisted into a wry smile. "I do endeavor to learn from my mistakes, albeit slowly sometimes."

Despite his attempt at levity, Abbie still saw the concern in Ichabod's expression.

"The book will give us answers," she said unevenly.

"Indeed," said Ichabod gravely. His tone suggested he was worried about what those answers might be.

"Ah… so are we doing this or not?" asked Hawley impatiently. "Or are you two just going to keep on whispering at each other?"

Abbie looked over at Hawley standing on the other side of his car. "We're coming," she said shortly.

"So is Christmas. Let's do this already." Hawley headed off towards the bank.

Abbie and Ichabod moved to follow him at a slower pace. Ichabod still hadn't let go of her arm, and she felt his other hand settle on her back. Abbie couldn't deny it made her feel better to have him this close to her. She swallowed hard, worried as to what that might mean. Abbie didn't handle the concept of weakness well.

When they walked into the bank, Hawley had already secured the safety deposit key. He waggled it at them, inclining his head towards the viewing room. She and Ichabod followed him into a room where all the walls were lines with safety deposit boxes. A metal table was in the middle of the room. Abbie watched Hawley open his deposit box, and pull out a large, grey book with battered edges and ragged pages. It was clearly very old. He walked over to the table, and laid it down. Ichabod immediately commandeered the book, opening up the ancient tome and flicking through its yellowed pages. He was instantly absorbed in what he was doing. Abbie watched him, head bent over the book, eyes flicking back and forth as he skimmed through each page. She always found his ability in this area impressive. Ichabod's keen intellect and his ability to cut to the heart of matters had saved them many times over in the past. Abbie just hoped there was a way out of this mess she'd created.

Her gaze lingered on Ichabod's profile, knowing she was safe to stare at him when he was absorbed in acquiring knowledge. The roof could cave in when Ichabod was reading and he'd probably barely notice. Abbie had learnt long ago not to try and talk to him whilst he was in the thrall of a book. It was a pointless exercise. It was one of those annoyingly habits that people in your life might have which becomes endearing over time. When you reference it you roll your eyes, but can't help the smile which comes with it. That pretty much summed up how Abbie felt about Ichabod most of the time – a roll of the eyes and a smile. But then they'd kissed and something tangible had shifted between them. Abbie knew Ichabod could feel it too. His concerned gaze that rarely left her now was not only about her physical wellbeing. He was worried about the two of them, about losing the 'us' of them after changing the status quo between them because of a few stolen kisses. To Abbie, the prospect of losing their partnership was more frightening then whatever was happening to her body right then, so she understood those looks. That realization was an amazing one to her. She didn't let people easily into her lives. Experience had taught her to be guarded, and even though she'd tried her best with Ichabod to put him into a neat box in her life labelled 'Fellow Witness', the truth was he wasn't contained in that box, and hadn't been for a long time. Those kisses just made it harder to pretend otherwise now.

"I have it!" Ichabod suddenly proclaimed triumphantly, finger on a page. "The Nephesh." He looked at Hawley with pointed disapproval. "Not the Nogah."

"I said my Hebrew was spotty," said Hawley defensively. "I was close. They both start with the letter N."

"As does nomologist and ninny," said Ichabod shortly.

Hawley looked at him blankly. "Is that an insult, because I really couldn't tell? I was just getting that from your eyebrows. You have very judgmental eyebrows."

"A nomologist studies the science of the law; especially of the mind, and a ninny is short for a nincompoop," said Ichabod impatiently. "Little wonder you are ignorant of both terms."

"That explanation doesn't help me at all, but I heard the word poop, so, hey!" Hawley jabbed a finger at him. "You're the poopy head!"

"I swear to God I am literally seconds away from shooting you both," ground out Abbie. "Just tell us the difference between nogah and nephesh, Crane."

Ichabod looked upset that Hawley's niggling had gotten the best of him again as he returned his attention to the text. "The Nogah in this context means brilliance or light."

"Yeah, that's what the potion is meant to do, give you a bit of a spring in your step, make you smarter, sharper," said Hawley.

"It is far more than that when a careful rendering of the text is undertaken," said Ichabod gravely. "The liquid given to you is meant to harness the _nephesh_ of another person. In Hebrew, the literal understanding of the nephesh is living being, in English the closest we can come is the concept of the soul. The bible talks about God breathing life into his creation, the nephesh, the breath of life."

"So what does that mean?" asked Abbie slowly.

Ichabod was intent on reading, scanning the page, before turning over to the next page and reading that.

Abbie really didn't like the expression on his face as he read. "Crane," she said impatiently, "what is it? What does it all mean?"

"The writer of this text claims the potion contained within the flask is a concoction by which the nephesh of a person can be harnessed by another."

"Harnessed?" repeated Hawley uncertainly.

"Stolen," said Ichabod unevenly. "The potion is meant to enable you to literally steal the breath from another's body." His gaze locked with hers, full of worry.

"And what happens to the person who's had their breath stolen?" asked Abbie intently.

"Their life force is taken from them," said Ichabod painfully, "and endowed to the other person."

"Well, that's not… great," said Abbie soberly. "So, what, you just drink the stuff and the closest person gets your soul or whatever?"

"The translation is difficult to put into English," said Ichabod hesitantly and looking as guilty as hell. "But the closest I can render it is that the potion must be taken, and then the breath literally stolen from your body by the other person." Ichabod's anguished gaze didn't leave hers.

Abbie knew exactly what he was remembering, still having the faint taste of their kisses in her mouth, even though it was hours ago. More than a few breaths had been exchanged between them in that time, more than enough for Ichabod to steal the breath from her body. Although that was the thing, wasn't it? He hadn't stolen anything. Abbie had freely given, and now it was coming back to bite her in the ass, big time. She was never weak like that. Why was it when she did have a moment of dropping her guard did everything have to go so catastrophically wrong?

Hawley looked confused. "Wait, I still don't get it. What are we talking about here? How do you suck the breath out of someone? I mean, do you make them sneeze or cough or something? Cause it's not like you two were down there kissing or anything."

Ichabod's lips tightened and his look of guilt deepened and Abbie knew she wasn't looking any more innocent.

Hawley sucked in a gasp of horror, looking between them and their awkward looks. "Oh come on! Like tonight hasn't been enough of a nightmare. You two are banging each other?" He pulled a face. "How is that even possible?"

"We are not _banging_ one other," said Ichabod, his tone full of contempt at the term as he glared fiercely at the other man. "And I'll thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head when addressing the Lieutenant."

"Oh, that's rich considering I know exactly where that civil tongue of yours has been lately," retorted Hawley.

Abbie gritted her teeth and willed herself not to blush. "Shut up, Hawley!" she snapped before Ichabod could give his own retort. "This has nothing to do with you."

"Really, because this guy's been trying to hang the guilt on me for this whole situation all night and it turns out, I'm not the one who's got you into this condition, it's him," shot back Hawley, scowling at them both. "I hope you're pleased with yourself. Because you couldn't keep it in your pants, now we've got a whole situation going on."

Ichabod turned away abruptly, walking towards the other side of the room.

Abbie grimaced. "Don't listen to him, Crane. This is _not_ your fault." She really didn't need Ichabod disappearing into a new cycle of guilt right then.

Ichabod turned back around and almost glared at her. "How is it not my fault?" he asked in distress. "The potion you took would have remained inactive if I had not initiated those kisses between us," he said with obvious self-loathing. "Hawley is right. My lack of propriety in that hole has caused your life to come under threat."

Abbie shook her head at him. "I'm not going to debate blame with you right now, Crane. Just tell me what's the actual threat here? If you've stolen my breath, why am I still walking around?"

"I fear it is only my proximity to you that is ensuring your current wellbeing," said Ichabod unhappily. "And even that will be a fading comfort as the potion takes hold of your entire system."

Abbie's brain was working overtime. "Okay, is there some kind of antidote I can take then? Does the book talk about a way to reverse this thing?"

Ichabod's expression became stricken. "I have not as yet come across such a reference in what I have read so far."

"But you haven't read the entire book yet," said Abbie, grasping at straws. "There may still be an answer in there, right?"

"Indeed," said Ichabod quickly. "I must study the book more fully. Answers might still yet lie in its pages. We should return to the archives and see if there are other tomes which might also reference this potion."

"Or you two could just go and exchange spit in a closet somewhere," suggested Hawley sourly. "Cause apparently, that's something you guys do now." He shrugged. "Or maybe you always did. I don't know. Maybe you two were at it from day one."

"I was a married man," said Ichabod angrily.

"Oh yeah, because married men never have sex with women other than their wives in the history of the world," said Hawley sarcastically. "And also, Santa is real. Guess why we know that marriage of yours really went bad now, huh?"

Ichabod's expression became almost thunderous in response to that jab, and he was suddenly across the room, and grabbing Hawley by the throat, lifting him off the ground completely.

Abbie's eyes went wide at Ichabod's display of strength as he lifted the large man effortlessly above his head using only one hand.

It was an act Ichabod barely even seemed to register as he shook Hawley in real anger. "I would never dishonor Katrina or the Lieutenant in such a discourteous manner!" Ichabod's eyes blazed fury at Hawley. "Never infer such a grievous lie again or I will end this matter between us once and for all!"

Hawley was looking at him in shock but his mouth still didn't know when to call it a day, even as he dangled there. "You throwing down, Crane?" he choked out. "Should I be bracing for a glove slap right about now? Because just a heads up, I'm allergic to lace, so try and see if you've got a man's glove tucked away in your big floaty coat and stripper boots, okay?"

Ichabod's hands tightened on Hawley, lifting the man higher off the ground.

"Crane, put him down!" Abbie ordered him loudly. "Stop this right now, both of you!"

Her shouting at him had Ichabod looking at her as though he'd just been reminded of her presence.

Abbie held up a hand to him. "Crane, seriously, put Hawley down. He's going red."

Ichabod looked back up at Hawley, almost surprised at the revelation. He immediately dropped Hawley to the ground. Hawley sucked in some strangled breaths and then glared at Ichabod. "What the hell was that?"

Ichabod looked at his hands, and then back at Hawley. His expression was one of contrition. "I-I am sorry. I lost my temper." Ichabod's gaze hardened. "With good reason, I might add."

"Well, yeah," said Hawley dismissively as he rubbed his throat, "obviously. But I meant the lifting me off the ground thing. You shouldn't be able to do that, at least, not so easily. I weigh nearly two hundred pounds."

Ichabod looked genuinely concerned now as he seemed to fully realize what he'd just done.

Hawley shook his head at him in vague disdain. "I guess sucking the life force out of someone gives you a little extra bounce in your step after all, huh?"

Abbie realized Hawley must be right. Ichabod had just displayed superhuman strength, and as she could feel hers dwindling, it wasn't hard to guess where it was coming from.

"And kind of extra asshole to your persona," continued on Hawley, giving a final rub of his neck as he shot Ichabod a look of censure. "Not that you needed the top up."

"I-I am sorry for my outburst, Hawley," said Ichabod stiffly. "It was not my intention to lay hands on you."

Hawley's lips twisted. "I guess I may have been partially to blame, in a really small, almost imperceptible way."

"You were being a jerk," said Abbie in annoyance. "And not helping this situation at all. We need to get out of here and figure this out before—" She stopped abruptly. "Before whatever is going to happen to me, happens."

"Absolutely," said Ichabod swiftly, immediately by her side again. "We waste time on these internal scuffles. Time we may not have."

"Could you just try and be a little less brutally honest about this stuff?" asked Abbie in exasperation. "You're like a ticking clock of doom."

Ichabod made a face. "My apologies, Lieutenant." He turned and scooped up the book. "But no further dalliances would be a sterling idea at this moment."

"Just say 'we're outta here' like a normal person, Crane," said Hawley tersely.

"Don't start," she commanded both of them, able to see this deteriorating into yet another sniping match. Abbie led the way out of the room and back into the bank. "When we get back to the archives we'll—" She never finished her sentence as they walked into the foyer of the bank which appeared to be in the middle of a robbery. The bank customers along with staff were lying face down on the ground, hands stretched over their heads. On instinct Abbie went for her gun, pulling it out and aiming it at the man in the balaclava holding a shotgun and another across the room with a semiautomatic rifle. "Put down your weapons now, Sleepy Hollow PD!"

"Oh crap," muttered Hawley behind her. "Can't we just catch one break today?"

The two men swung around and pointed their guns at Abbie.

"Not gonna happen, sweetheart," yelled the closest gunman. "You drop your gun, or we're redecorating the walls in cop blood."

Abbie knew she didn't have a chance against two gunmen, but she didn't lower her gun. Instead, she used her most calming voice. "Look, there is no way out of this. Nobody needs to get hurt. Just put down your guns and we can walk out of here before things get complicated."

The gunmen exchanged looks. "You'll get us out of here?"

"Yes, nobody has to get hurt." Abbie was very aware of Ichabod's presence as he surreptitiously sidled up beside her, hands raised.

"The Lieutenant's words of counsel are wise ones," Ichabod offered up. "More law enforcement officers will not be far away. A police officer willing to negotiate on your behalf will mean that no blood has to be spilt today. An outcome I am sure you must agree would be advantageous for all involved."

The closest gunman cocked his head. "Huh?"

"He means no one wants to get dead today," translated Hawley flatly. "So listen to the pretty lady and let's put this puppy to bed already."

Out of the corner of her eye, Abbie saw a security guard go for his gun while the two men's focus were on her. "No!" she yelled, but it was already too late. The second gunmen had noticed the movement as well, and he'd immediately opened fire on the guard, shooting him in the shoulder and chest. The man fell to the ground, undoubtedly dead, as the people in the bank screamed and cowered in fear.

"What did you do?" asked the gunman closer to her in horror.

"I had to, man, he was going for his gun," complained the other robber.

"Now the cops are going to be all over us any minute."

"And when that happens, you don't want to be the one holding the gun," Abbie assured him, trying to get the situation back under control. "Put down your weapons and I can still get you out of this alive."

The robber stared at her. "You know, honey, I think you're half-right. Come here, we're going on a little trip."

"Lieutenant," Ichabod warned her, voice tense.

Abbie didn't look at him, just kept her eyes on the man in front of her. "I'm not going to do that. You need to consider your options here and do the smart thing."

"I've considered them," said the man tersely. "Now, drop your gun and come here otherwise I'm shooting this old woman in the face."

The white haired woman lying face down on the ground near him whimpered, and started to shake.

Abbie shot her a quick look. "Nobody else is going to get shot today because you're smarter than that."

"I'm going to count to three," said the robber, unmoved, "and then my associate is going to shoot the old woman, and her blood will be on your hands." The woman began to cry, shoulders shaking as she sobbed into the marble floor of the bank.

Abbie hesitated, but could see in the man's eyes he wasn't about to back down. She slowly lowered her gun. "It's alright, ma'am," she said steadily. "You're safe, nobody is going to hurt you." Abbie started towards the gunmen.

"Lieutenant, no," said Ichabod urgently, making a move to reach out for her.

"Don't you move!" said the robber sharply, aiming his gun at Ichabod before grabbing at Abbie and spinning her around, throwing an arm around her neck and dragging her back against him. Now the muzzle of the shotgun was pressed against her jaw.

"It's alright, Crane," she said calmly.

Ichabod shook his head at her, clearly concerned that wasn't the case.

"Okay, we're leaving, and if anyone is stupid enough to try and stop us, then the Sheriff's department has got a job opening," threatened the gunmen, taking a step back and forcing Abbie to do the same.

Ichabod immediately stepped forward, holding up his hands. "Wait, you cannot take the Lieutenant." He inclined his head towards Hawley. "Take this man instead as your hostage."

"Hey!" exclaimed Hawley.

Ichabod glared at him. "We have no other option. I may not offer up myself to these men."

"Oh right, the thing with you two," said Hawley. He pouted. "Damn it. Fine, yeah, sure, take me. That'd be awesome," he said with decided lack of enthusiasm.

"Oh sure, I'm going to take the big guy instead of the little woman as my hostage," sneered the robber. "There's a plan. Besides, she's a cop. The other cops are going to think twice on opening fire on one of their own."

"Fine," said a resigned Hawley, "if you want leverage, you want to be taking me. You know the Senator of this fine state? Well, he's my dad."

Abbie watched Ichabod's shoulders sag and then give a disgusted shake of his head. She could help but agree with his reaction at Hawley's attempts to be helpful.

"Really?" asked the clearly skeptical would-be bank robber, not loosening his grip on her. " _You're_ Senator Hansen's son?"

Hawley gave a short nod of his head. "That's right. Good old dad is someone with a bit of pull around here. So I'm clearly the better hostage material."

"We're talking about Senator _Patricia_ Hansen right?" pushed the robber flatly.

Hawley held the other man's gaze steadily. "That's right, my dad's name is Patricia and I'm Fiona Hawley Hansen. It's a family thing. Just ask my sisters, Hank and Ron."

"Oh dear God," muttered Ichabod, rolling his eyes.

"You mean the Senator Patricia Hansen who just happens to also be black?"

"Yep," said a steadfast Hawley, determinedly not backing down from his lie even as the ridiculousness of that lie was becoming more evident to him. "I'm an albino and if you don't mind, I'm kind of sensitive about that."

"Just give it up, Hawley," sighed Abbie.

"Shut up, Mills, I got this," he said with unwarranted confidence. "Okay, you got me, I'm about to blow the lid off a big old family secret – my father became my mother. Dad did a Caitlyn Jenner years ago, before it was the cool thing to do. We've kept it in family ever since it happened, and I'm not going to lie, in the beginning there were some uncomfortable family Sunday dinners, with Dad wearing a dress and those pearls. I always thought pearls for a Sunday lunch was overkill. But now we're all totally cool with it."

"At what point are you going to see fit to give up this ludicrous lie?" asked Ichabod impatiently.

"I don't see you doing anything," retorted Hawley. "At least I'm trying. It's not my fault I didn't get around to voting in the last elections… or kind of ever really."

Ichabod sent him a furious look. "Many brave men and women gave their lives so you could enjoy the liberty of being able to elect your own officials. Why does it not surprise me that you treat their sacrifice with so little respect?"

"Hey, I would vote, okay," said Hawley defensively, "but my only options to vote for are politicians and they're all idiots and conmen."

"How can you cast such a slanderous slur against Patricia, your own dear father?" asked Ichabod sweetly. "I am beginning to see why those family dinners were so tense, Fiona."

"Shut up, Crane!"

"We would all be well served if you heeded your own advice in this matter," shot back Ichabod.

"Okay, both of you shut up!" said the robber in agitation. "You're making my head hurt."

"Welcome to my world," said Abbie in resignation.

"We're leaving, and if anyone tries to follow us, I'm shooting the cop in the head, got it?"

The robber backed up again, dragging Abbie along with him. Her hands went to the arm around her neck as he nearly lifted her off the ground, making breathing difficult. The other robber was also backing up towards the exit as she struggled against the choke hold the man had on her.

Ichabod took a few steps towards them. "No, you may not take her!" he said urgently.

"Are you trying to get your girlfriend killed?" asked the robber in disbelief as Ichabod followed them.

"You may not separate the Lieutenant and myself," insisted Ichabod. "If you will not release her, then you must also take me with you in your bid for freedom."

"I'm not taking two of you," said the gunman in exasperation. "All I need is the cop."

Ichabod's gaze locked with Abbie's. "We may not be separated," repeated Ichabod hoarsely. "The Lieutenant's life depends on it."

"What her life depends on is you backing the hell up, hero," bit out the gunman, still dragging Abbie backwards and heading to the exit.

"Listen to reason on this matter, man!" demanded Ichabod. "You causing the death of a serving police officer will garner you no favors in the fate which is undoubtedly waiting for you."

"Huh?"

"He means take the woman and you're screwed," offered up Hawley from the other side of the room.

"Give me one good reason why I should let her go," said the robber sharply.

"The Lieutenant has partaken of an elixir which is slowly stealing the life from her body. I must remain close to her otherwise the remainder of her life force will be taken from her and all which shall remain is the shell of her body, and most likely that shell will return to the dust from whence she came."

"I'm going to turn to dirt?" asked Abbie in horror.

"Only in the most literal understanding of the text," said Ichabod apologetically. "I did not feel the information was something you would necessarily find pertinent, Lieutenant."

"If I'm about to turn into a dust bunny, you can bet the farm I'm going to find that piece of information pertinent, Crane," she shot back.

"I will not allow that to happen," said Ichabod swiftly.

"Seriously?" interjected the gunman with open disdain. "A magic potion which turns a person to dirt?" He looked down at Abbie. "So what's your deal here, cop? You only hang out with pathological liars or what?"

"I speak the truth," said Ichabod determinedly.

"You back your magic bean lovin' ass the hell up with the albino over there otherwise I'm shooting your girl right here and now," threatened the man.

Ichabod gave a distressed look at Abbie.

Her jaw hardened. "We know we can manage some separation," she said swiftly, all of her focus on Ichabod, as the man started to drag her towards the door again. "He only needs to put some distance between the bank and himself. We won't be apart for long." Abbie knew she could talk the guy into letting her go once they were outside. "Don't worry."

"Lieutenant," said Ichabod in anguish as the robber wrestled her through the door.

They were outside now and the next thing she knew was she was being shoved into the backseat of a black sedan. The two men jumped in after her. The gunman who'd shot the security guard was behind the wheel.

"Drive!" ordered her captor, in the backseat with her.

The man put down his foot, tires squealing as he pulled away from the curb.

Abbie looked out the back window to see Ichabod and Hawley running out of the bank after them but then they were turning a corner and she couldn't see them anymore. A sharp sensation shot through her stomach, and Abbie gave a grunt of pain. It was happening already. She fixed the gunman with a determined look. "You have to let me go."

"When you stop being useful to us," said the man dismissively.

"Where are we going, Tommy?" asked the driver nervously, taking each new corner too fast.

The man in the backseat with her pulled off his balaclava. "Just stay to the back streets. We need to get away from traffic. And take that damn mask off. You want to advertise we're on the run here?"

The driver hastily removed his ski mask and tossed it on the seat beside him.

Tommy looked at her. "You've seen our faces now. You know what that means, right? This ain't gonna end well for you, little lady."

Abbie pressed her lips together to form a white line of pain. Fissures of white hot agony were already running along each nerve ending. These two men were the least of her problems. The evidently widening distance between her and Ichabod was of much more pressing concern. Abbie knew she didn't have much time to talk her way out of this and get these men to release her. If she and Ichabod got any further apart, she wasn't sure how much longer her wits were going to stay with her. She could already feel a fog descending on her, making it hard to think. "Take-take the next left," she instructed them.

That earned her a sharp look from Tommy. "Why?"

"Take that left and the next two rights, and you'll be on the way to Old Mill Road," she informed him. "It takes us out of town and there are never any police patrols out that way. Nobody uses that road except for a couple of residents who have places out along it."

"You're helping us?" asked Tommy skeptically as they were jostled about in the back seat, thanks to some fairly erratic driving.

"I'm getting you and your guns away from people," said Abbie sternly. "And maybe without people around, you can start to think clearly. Like how kidnapping a cop is not the smartest move you can make, and either is killing a cop."

Tommy half-smiled. "You don't give up, do you?"

"It's not in my nature," said Abbie, determinedly ignoring the creeping numbness in her legs.

"You're still going to die though," said Tommy, almost conversationally.

"Maybe, but I'm not dead yet, and I've faced down the headless Horseman of Death more than once before today and lived to tell about it, so I wouldn't be counting me out just yet."

"How do you face down something without a face?" asked Tommy laconically.

"Metaphorically speaking," said Abbie, holding his gaze unflinchingly. "You picked the wrong team to mess with."

"What, Magic Beans and Fiona the Albino?" Tommy gave snort of laughter. "What are they gonna do, get crazy all over my new shoes?"

"Ichabod won't give up," said Abbie quietly. "He'll find me, and I don't know how this will end for you when he does." She'd seen something in Ichabod's face in that last look between them. There had been a kind of rage Abbie had never seen before. Whatever was happening to her, Ichabod was also feeling the effects of that potion. She'd seen him explode at Hawley. Was that just a once off, or was his own personality being changed by him taking on her life force? Abbie didn't know, and not knowing things in her world was dangerous for everyone concerned. Another stab of pain ripped through her side, and Abbie gritted her teeth against crying out. If Ichabod didn't find a way of keeping up with her and her captives, then all this was going to be a moot point. Abbie could only put her faith in her fellow Witness when it came to his promise that he wasn't going to leave her, and do her best to stay alive in the meantime.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N** **: Hello all, terribly sorry for the two week break in posting this chapter. I went away for a week's holiday and didn't have internet access or time to write. So, I've come back today and jotted down this chapter… which you may or may not thank me for.**

 **So, here goes, buckle up and have fun with it, guys…**

 **CHAPTER SIX**

"They are drawing away from us," said Ichabod anxiously, eyes fixed on the road ahead, desperate for a glimpse of the car Abbie had been bundled into. "You must not allow that to happen."

"Keep your weird and overly baggy britches on, Crane," shot back Hawley as he made a sharp right into the next street. "They're not that far ahead of us."

Ichabod shot him an impatient look. "On what are you basing that assumption? We can no longer see them."

"I'm well known for my reckless driving," said Hawley casually as he swerved violently around a corner. "Unless our robbers have a similar death wish, they're not going to get that far ahead of me."

"They have taken it upon themselves to rob a bank in daylight and kidnap an officer of the law after having killed a man." Ichabod's lips thinned into a tight line. "What about those activities suggest a strong sense of self-preservation?"

"Umm… okay, good point. I feel like if it came right down to it though, I'd be the one better at dancing with death." Hawley illustrated his point by narrowly avoiding a collision with another car as he zipped through a decidedly red traffic light.

Ichabod's hands tightened on the book which lay in his lap but made no other move to brace himself against Hawley's driving. "You claim superiority in recklessness as a point of pride," he said in disbelief. "Why does this not surprise me?"

"Hey, do you want me to catch up with the bad guys or not?"

Ichabod bent his head over the book, trying to steady himself enough against Hawley's driving to be able to read. "Such an idiotic question does not warrant an answer," he snapped. All Ichabod could think about was that Abbie was getting further away from him. "Take the next left."

"How do you know where they're going?"

"The Lieutenant will be directing them out of town, away from innocents who might be hurt. This is the old town road and is the most expedite course for that purpose."

"You can't know that for sure." Hawley took the left regardless.

"I know it for certain," said Ichabod with more calmness than he felt, but knew that he was right. It was like there was a strand between them which was being pulled increasingly taunt, and Ichabod feared what would happen when that strand was broken. He pushed down the panic such a thought brought him. Abbie needed his head to be clear if he was to be of any help in rectifying the horror he'd inadvertently brought down upon her. Ichabod was trying to read the words of the text before him, but that feeling of Abbie's life slipping through his fingers was an overwhelming one. All because he'd been unable to restrain himself from a few stolen moments of carnal pleasure. That was not who he was. Ichabod Crane was a man of forbearance and restraint. He did not act impulsively, the military had taught him the folly of such things. When you fought beside men, when you led them into battle, each decision made had an impact on those around you. Ichabod knew this, he'd lived this. Even when decisions had to be made with ultimate haste, Ichabod had always managed to weigh up all the possible outcomes before deciding on the best course of action.

But there had been no weighing of options with Abbie last night.

Ichabod had no thought in his head other than he needed to be kissing this woman. It hadn't even been a thought, more of an instinct. Like breathing. You never considered your next breath, you just did it, because to not to inhale would be counterintuitive. Not kissing Abbie in that moment had been counterintuitive, and Ichabod was still trying to work out what it was about that particular moment that had turned him so upside down. Yes, he'd needed to forge that closeness between them once again, but there had been no need for physical intimacies in the past to feel that connection. Last night had been different, they'd been different, the two of them. Indeed, because he'd been so without his wits, he'd potentially killed the one person in the world he was desperate to keep safe. A surge of white hot anger flooded Ichabod's entire body and he lashed out with one hand, striking at the door with all of the pent up frustration inside of him. The door was immediately ripped from its hinges and bounced it way into the woods which were now lining the road.

"Hey!" yelled Hawley in shock. "What the hell was that?"

Ichabod blinked, looking down at his still clenched fist in vague confusion. "I-ah-I do not know," he muttered.

" _I_ know," exclaimed Hawley. "You're wrecking my stuff! Cut it out, okay?" He glared at Ichabod. "Do you know how much this car cost?"

"You told me you won it in a game of chance," said Ichabod sourly.

"That's not the point," said Hawley hotly. "I had to cheat hard to get this car!" He shot Ichabod another look. "And just so you know, this sudden freakish strength of yours… _not_ a fan."

Ichabod's face clouded over, sharing the sentiment because he knew where he was gaining this strength from. "I cannot lose her," he whispered.

"What?" asked Hawley as he divided his attention between the now uneven dirt road and Ichabod.

"We cannot lose sight of the Lieutenant," said Ichabod more loudly, adjusting his words so they were less revealing. To lose Abbie in the heat of battle to the enemy would have been one thing, it was the life they'd both chosen. To lose her by his own hand because of his recklessness was another thing entirely. Painful memories of the knife sliding into Katrina's flesh assaulted Ichabod, the feeling of her warm blood flowing out over his hand, the hand which had taken her life so irrevocably.

"I'm on it," said Hawley impatiently. "You just keep looking for a cure in that book."

"I am searching the text but have not as yet—" Ichabod didn't get to finish as a gust of wind blew into the car and picked up several pages of the book and blew them out the gaping side of the car where the passenger door used to reside. He made a desperate grab for the precious pages, but it was too late as they fluttered in the draft left behind the speeding car.

"What am I doing?" asked Hawley hastily. "Am I stopping?"

"No!" Ichabod gave a fierce shake of his head. "We cannot allow any further distance between the Lieutenant and myself."

"But what if those pages have the cure for this thing?" Despite his protests, Hawley put his foot to the gas, speeding up.

"A cure will do us no good if-if—" Ichabod couldn't get the words out.

"Nobody is dying today, Crane," said Hawley tersely. "Ain't gonna happen."

Ichabod could only pray the other man's sentiment was going to ring truer than his grammar. The alternative was an outcome Ichabod knew he wouldn't be able to live with.

 **#**

Abbie bit back another groan of pain, wrapping her arms around her stomach. She was both on fire and freezing cold. A numbing pain was working its way throughout her entire body. Abbie lifted hands that felt suddenly impossibly heavy. She stared at them in horror as streaks of grey started to snake their way over her skin.

"What the hell is wrong with your hands?" asked Tommy in real concern.

Abbie turned to look at him and the other man gave a start of fear.

"And your face!"

On instinct Abbie put her hand to her face, but her hands could no longer feel anything. She looked between the front seats at the rear vision mirror and saw her reflection. More of those grey streaks were running up and down her face. She sucked in a gasp of horror, but the breath seemed to turn to lead in her lungs. Ichabod was too far away from her, or maybe it didn't matter anymore and the potion had taken hold of her completely. "I-I'm sick," she pushed out through frozen lips. "Stop the car."

"Tommy?" The driver said the man's name nervously, still driving. "What do I do?"

Tommy was still staring wide eyed at Abbie. "It's a trick," he said unsteadily.

"No," rasped Abbie. She was desperate for them to stop, knowing Ichabod and Hawley would be hot on their heels. The only chance she had lay with Ichabod, either from his presence or answers he'd found in that book. "I'm sick." Another strangled breath to find her next words. "And contagious. S-stop the c-car."

"Tommy?" The driver sounded really scared now. "I ain't getting what she's got. We got to get away from her. We got to stop."

"Shut up, Earl and let me think!" snapped Tommy.

"No-no time," gasped Abbie. She held up her left hand which was now almost completely grey and impossibly heavy. "Dying. You-you're next."

Tommy flinched back from the hand she was holding up. "Stop the car, Earl!"

Earl slammed on the brakes so hard that Abbie slid off the seat, unable to get her leaden limbs to work so that they could stop her from falling.

"Get out!" ordered Tommy.

Abbie tried to open the car door, but her hands no longer work. "C-c-can't."

Tommy grimaced as she turned to look at him. Abbie knew whatever was happening to her was taking over her entire body now. She felt the vision go from one eye, and she lost the ability to know if she could even still blink. Her face was completely numb now. The robber pushed himself as far away from her as possible, while still managing to kick open the door closest to her. With his booted foot he frantically kicked her out of the car. Abbie collapsed on the dirt road. Then the car was speeding away down a side road. Abbie willed herself to stand up with a body she could no longer feel. Every breath felt like swallowing ice which burned all the way down into her lungs. She couldn't breathe, but she needed to get moving. She needed to get back to Ichabod, to find him. With every bit of internal fortitude Abbie possessed, she stood upright, not even knowing how she was doing it on legs that felt like blocks of stone. She tried not to look at her left arm, knowing that greyness had snaked its way from her hand and all the way up to her shoulder. Her arm hung by her body as a lifeless lump. Abbie gritted her teeth, ignoring the useless limb and made herself take a step forward. If she was going down, it wasn't going to be without a fight. She wasn't dead yet.

 **#**

"What the hell was that?" asked a clearly terrified Earl who kept glancing back nervously over his shoulder.

"I don't know," ground out Tommy, looking out the back of the car as well.

"Do you think we're going to get sick now too?" asked Earl anxiously.

"I don't know," said Tommy shortly. What the hell had that been? He'd never seen anything like it before in his life.

"You were touching her. Do you think you've got that now too?"

"Will you shut the hell up?" snapped Tommy. "I just said I don't know, okay?"

"Sorry," said Earl timidly. He flicked a glance in the rear vision mirror at his friend. "What are we gonna do now? Go to a hospital or somethin'?"

"And tell them what exactly?"

"I dunno, that this woman was going all grey and dusty looking and we're worried it's going to happen to us?" suggested Earl uncertainly.

"That ain't like any disease I've ever seen," said Tommy grimly. "And even if we do believe us, you know they're going to stick us in some isolation room to figure out what is going on."

"And if they don't believe us?"

"Then we're gonna be in the nut house or the big house," said Tommy tersely. "And I ain't goin' back to jail." His brain was racing. "Turn around."

"Wh-what?"

"Turn around. We need to find out what is goin' on," he growled.

"I ain't goin' near that chick again," said Earl hastily.

"We're not. We're going to find those two idiots she was with and find out what the hell is happening." It was all Tommy could think of. Even if going to any kind of authorities was an option right then, somehow he didn't think they were going to listen to what they had to say or know the first thing to do about it if they did. "Turn the car around, Earl!"

Earl threw the car into a violent U-turn and headed back down the side road. They reconnected with the dirt road they'd dumped the woman cop on, but Earl was moving so fast and kicking up so much dust with squealing tires, Tommy couldn't see if she was still where they'd thrown her out of the car. That suited him just fine. He just needed to find out how bad of a mess they'd just gotten themselves into and fast.

 **#**

Hawley took another turn in the dirt road and shook his head. "Are you real sure they came this way, man?" he asked, starting to worry now. "I can't believe they got this far ahead of us."

"She's close," said Ichabod tightly.

"How do you know that, you got some special spider sense because of the potion thing?"

"No," said Ichabod hoarsely. "I know this because it has to be true."

Hawley had been hoping that Ichabod's certainty was based on a bit more than desperation. Apparently that wasn't the case. He snuck a quick, concerned look at his passenger. They'd been worrying about Abbie, but truth be told, Hawley had some genuine concerns about Ichabod right then. Sure, the guy could be as annoying as hell sometimes, well, most of the time, but he wasn't prone to outbursts of genuine anger, more niggling complaints about nothing. And ripping doors off hinges also hadn't been in the guy's repertoire until just now. If they didn't find Abbie in one piece, Hawley was beginning to worry about what Ichabod would do. Truth was, he was having a bit of trouble figuring out the guy altogether. That's why he kept prodding away at him, trying to work out what made him tick, other than that giant stick up his ass, of course. The moral high ground the guy was always claiming was annoying, but Hawley could handle that. What he hadn't been able to work out was the whole thing going on with Abbie. Jenny had said they were like co-workers in a cosmic office that dealt with the oncoming Apocalypse, but Hawley hadn't bought into that explanation.

When Katrina had been alive, Hawley knew Ichabod believed himself above any kind of interest in other women. That was fine. Loyalty he got. It wasn't something he practiced overly and had never worked out too great for him in the past when he did, but Hawley did understand it. But even while Ichabod had been intent on being the dutiful husband, Hawley had felt the other man's eyes on him when he'd gone near Abbie. It was a guy thing. You just knew when another male was getting antsy about another male getting too close to a woman they thought they had some kind of claim over.

Hawley knew Abbie would punch both of them in the face if she'd thought for one minute there was some kind of male posturing going on between them when it came to her. But that was the thing which confused Hawley. There _was_ male posturing going on between him and Ichabod, from the moment they met, and it was because of her, but Abbie never seemed to pick up on it. The woman was no idiot and showed a lot of insight about just about everything else, but in that area, she seemed to have a blind spot. It was obvious to Hawley that both he and Ichabod wanted Abbie to see them as the alpha male. Again, Hawley knew he'd be treated to a punch in the face if he ever said that to Abbie, because she was one woman who definitely wasn't looking for a man to impress her… which only made a man want to do it even more. Nothing spurs on a man into doing dumb things than a woman who shows no interest in you. Hawley had no doubt Ichabod would refute any kind of competition between them for Abbie's attention, for a lot of reasons, but that didn't change the truth. Hawley was just the one prepared to be honest about it, which was pretty ironic given his usual relationship with truthfulness.

Ichabod and Abbie had always shown themselves to be so willfully ignorant about any other aspect of their relationship other than the whole Witness thing, that Hawley had been genuinely shocked to learn they'd been playing a few rounds of tonsil hockey. Making out with a beautiful woman seemed like such a normal thing to do, so he just hadn't pictured Ichabod ever lowering his lofty standards to actually do what any other man with a pulse would have done, or at least tried to do. Now that he'd had some time to think about the two of them getting down and dirty in that little hole-o-love, it was beginning to make sense to Hawley. Basically, these two had never allowed themselves to find each other attractive in a physical way before. When you refuse to deal with an aspect of a relationship, it always comes back to bite you in the ass. Hawley wasn't a fan of dealing with things himself, which is why he never hung around long enough for complications to come home to roost. These two idiots expected not to deal with the fact they might want to get into each other's pants at some point, but then made the mistake of staying in each other's company. That was a recipe for disaster, although this whole turning to dust thing was probably more of a disaster than the usual hurt feelings and morning after regret.

"Look out!" yelled Ichabod.

Hawley was already slamming on the brakes and swerving wildly to avoid the oncoming car. He skidded to a halt by the side of the road, coughing as the dust from the near impact filled the car. "What—" Hawley had turned to Ichabod to ask the question, but the other man was no longer there. He must have jumped out of the still moving car from his doorless seat. Hawley scrambled to follow Ichabod, but not before grabbing for the gun he always kept under the driver's seat. Ichabod was already at the car which Hawley recognized as the robber's. Looks like the criminals had a change of heart. The thought was an oddly concerning one. They didn't seem like men who had a heart of gold under a rough exterior. Something must be very wrong.

"Where is she?" roared Ichabod, storming towards the backseat. He yanked the backdoor off its hinges. "Lieutenant!"

"Wow, but you're being hard on doors today," muttered Hawley, but then he was pointing his gun at the driver. "Get out of the car! Now!"

The driver held up his hands, looking afraid.

"Out of the car!" repeated Hawley. "Keep your hands where I can see them!"

"Where is she?" asked Ichabod loudly. "Where is the Lieutenant?"

"Ah, Crane?" Hawley was keeping one eye on the man getting out from behind the wheel and the other man in the backseat who'd climbed out and had a shotgun aimed at Ichabod's chest. A fact Ichabod didn't seem to be even noticing as his frantic gaze darted back and forth between the front and back seats of the car.

"Back up, hero," snapped the other man. "I don't want to get blood on my new shoes." He glanced over at Hawley. "You too, Fiona, drop the gun or I kill your friend."

"He's not really a friend," said Hawley, trying to buy time. "More somebody who annoys the crap out of me and I can't seem to shake. He's the human equivalent of herpes – don't know how I got him, can't get rid of him." Nonetheless, Hawley reluctantly lowered his gun.

"Toss it over here."

"I'd rather hang onto it, if it's all the same to you," said Hawley easily. That earned him a glare from the robber. "Yeah," he sighed, "figured that probably wasn't going to fly." He threw the gun over to one side.

"Where is the Lieutenant?" demanded Ichabod, not even seeming to hear what they were saying. "What have you done with her?"

"We dumped her because she's sick or something."

Ichabod's eyes went wide. "What is wrong with her? What has happened?"

The man pushed the muzzle of the shotgun harder against Ichabod's chest. "That's what you're going to tell me. What's wrong with the cop? Are we going to get sick too?"

"Take me to her," he said sharply. "Now!"

"We're not going anywhere near her," said the robber who'd been driving. He looked really worried as he sweated profusely. "What's wrong with her? Why was she going all grey like that? Is it contagious? Is she some part of government experiment or something? Are we going to die?"

Ichabod's head snapped around and even Hawley was a little taken aback at the fierceness in the other man's expression.

"Yes," hissed Ichabod, "because I'm going to kill you both if any harm has come to her." His hands snapped out with such speed that they were little more than a blur as he grabbed the shotgun-wielding robber in front of him and tossed him into the woods. The man sailed through the air, still clutching his gun from the shock of the speed and strength of the attack. He slammed into a large tree, the trunk actually splitting with the force of the impact. A pained grunt escaped his lips before sliding down the tree into an unconscious crumpled heap. Ichabod turned his furious attention to the driver now, large strides carrying him over to where the shocked man was standing. Ichabod gripped him around the throat, lifting him off the ground. "Where is she?" he roared. "Where is the Lieutenant? What have you done to her?"

Hawley rushed at Ichabod, grabbing at his arm. "Put him down, Crane, you're going to snap his neck!"

Ichabod didn't even turn to look at him, just pushed against his chest with his free hand. Hawley found himself immediately flung off his feet, and tossed onto the hood of his own car. He felt the sizeable dent he left in the metal from the impact. "Damn it, Crane," he hissed, sliding down the front of his now decidedly worse for wear car, trying to catch his breath. "You're the reason I can't have nice things." Hawley staggered to his feet and tried again, but kept a little more distance this time. "Put the guy down! You killing him isn't going to help us find Mills!"

That earned him a glare full of violence from Ichabod.

Hawley held out a conciliatory hand. "Let the guy talk," he tried to reason with Ichabod. "He's the only one who knows where Abbie is." Hawley glanced quickly at the crumpled heap which was the other robber. "And is, you know, conscious."

Ichabod blinked, his words seeming to penetrate some part of the rage he was experiencing. He abruptly let go of the other man, who fell in a puddle at his feet. "Where is she?" Ichabod kicked the other man, hard. "Speak, man, or I will indeed snap that worthless neck of yours."

"D-d-down th-the-the road a-a-a bit," gasped the red-faced man, hands at his throat as he struggled to draw breath.

Ichabod hauled him to his feet. "You will show us. Now!"

Even Hawley flinched at the amount of violence Ichabod had managed to fit into that single word. "I think you'd better do what he says." His look became pointed at the quivering criminal. "You may notice my associate is not into playing nice today."

The man nodded mutely, stumbling back into his car and starting the engine. Ichabod immediately placed himself in the backseat. Hawley wanted to take his car but could see Ichabod wasn't going to be waiting for anyone, so he hastily jumped into the front passenger seat, but not before grabbing up his gun.

"Go!" snapped Ichabod, his expression one which immediately induced fresh terror in their driver.

"Yes, sir," wheezed the man, throwing the car around, and speeding off back down the road he'd just come from. He shot Hawley a worried look. "Is he going to kill me?" he whispered fearfully.

Hawley shrugged. "I'm not going to lie to you, man, probably. Herpes here isn't quite in his right mind at the moment." He glanced over his shoulder at Ichabod who looked so rigid sitting there, it was like his whole body was about to splinter into a thousand pieces. Hawley looked back at the anxious man. "If it's any help, it's probably going to be brutal, but really, really fast." He pursed his lips. "Unless torturing is his thing now." Another shrug. "It's kinda hard to say, but either way, I'm pretty sure you're boned."

The man's hands tightened on the wheel and swallowed hard as fresh sweat broke out on his forehead.

Hawley didn't blame him. Even he was a bit worried about what super-charged Ichabod would do next.

"Look out!" Now it was Hawley's turn to yell the warning as a figure in the middle of the road suddenly appeared.

Their driver slammed on the brakes and swerved. Hawley hit his head on the door window, the glass cracked, but didn't break. "Damn it," he muttered, rubbing at the lump he could already feel developing. He'd have time to worry about that later though. Right now he was following Ichabod's lead and jumping out of the car.

"No, no, no!"

The desperate wail in Ichabod's voice had Hawley's stomach cramping anxiously. This could not be good. The dust was still settling from the sudden stop of the car, and Hawley blinked his way the clouds to see Ichabod standing in front of Abbie. For a moment relief flooded his body at seeing her standing there. "Mills!" he called out in delight, but there was no answer. In fact, she wasn't moving at all.

Ichabod was frozen in front of her, hands outstretched, but seemingly too frightened to touch her. "Please, no," he whimpered. "Lieutenant… Abbie… no."

Hawley came up behind Ichabod and caught his first proper look of Abbie, and for a long moment, he couldn't comprehend what he was looking at. Abbie was standing there in front of them, one hand outstretched, the other by her side but she was no longer in a human state. It was impossible, but it was as though they were looking at a stone statue of the young woman, dressed in her clothes.

Ichabod seemed to be in a similar state of denial as he reached out a badly shaking hand and touched Abbie's cheek. "No," he moaned quietly, "please, God, no."

Hawley could tell by just watching Ichabod touch her that he was touching a hard, unyielding material. Abbie had been turned to stone. He'd thought Ichabod had just been his overdramatic self when talking about the dust thing, but it looked like it was worse than even he'd thought. Although was stone worse than dust? Hawley's shocked brain couldn't come up with an answer to that. All he knew as that he was looking at a statue of a dead woman, dressed in her clothes and he didn't know what the hell to do with all the emotions he was feeling right then. Ichabod seemed to be in a similar state of despair as he took a step closer and laid his cheek against Abbie's now stone one.

"Lieutenant, please," he whispered into her transformed flesh, "do not leave me like this."

That knot was back in Hawley's stomach as he watched a tear slide down Ichabod's face. He felt his own emotions threatening to overwhelm him, and he took a step back, shaking his head. "We-this… we can fix this," he said hoarsely. "The book, it'll tell us how to fix this. Right, Crane?"

Ichabod remained as he was, in a one-sided embrace with the statue, not answering him.

"Crane, you can fix this, right?" pushed Hawley unsteadily.

"I have killed her," moaned Ichabod despairingly. "Abbie's life is forfeit because of me."

Hawley wasn't used to Ichabod showing this much emotion or giving up quite so easily. He wasn't sure what to do next. "Okay, okay, let's think about this, we just have to make sure nobody panics and—" There was the sound of a shotgun being pumped and Hawley swung around to see the shaking robber pointing a shotgun at them both. "And do anything stupid," he finished dourly. "But we may be already too late on that last part."

"I ain't dyin' here!" yelled the robber.

"This situation does not call for more guns," said Hawley quickly.

Ichabod had turned around now, staring at the other man with a gathering rage.

The man took a hasty step back, aiming the gun squarely at Ichabod. "You stay where you are!"

"Do not aim your weapon at the Lieutenant!" shouted Ichabod, ignoring the other man's warning and advancing on him.

"It might be a little too late for that, Crane," said Hawley unhappily. "I think right now, the important thing is for everyone to stay calm and no one does anything—"

"I said, do not aim your weapon at her!" roared an incensed Ichabod. He lunged for the terrified man's gun and there was the sound of a loud explosion.

The next thing Hawley knew was he was being spun around with the force of a several pellets impacting his arm. "Son of a bitch!" he screamed as the white hot pain ripped up his arm. Hawley staggered a little, but managed to keep himself upright. "Stupid!" he finished off fiercely. "Nobody do anything stupid!" Hawley grabbed his arm and felt the warm blood already oozing out between this fingers. "Good one, Crane, now you've gone and gotten me shot!" he snapped in annoyance as he jerked back around. "I hope you're happy!" Hawley's rant was abruptly cut short by the sight of an unmoving Ichabod lying on the ground, and staring sightlessly up at the sky with the stunned-looking robber standing over him. A gaping wound now occupied the area where Ichabod's chest used to be, with pieces of broken ribs and spurting arteries sticking up through the hole. Hawley looked at the grotesque sight in a state of shock. "Although, I'm guessing, maybe not so much," he finished off weakly.

There probably wasn't going to be anything in that book of his to fix this…

 **A/N** **: Okay, probably only one more chapter to go, maybe two. I mean, how much more can I write when I've just killed off both the witnesses, right? Exactly. Hope you'll join me for the next chapter… or not, depending on how mad you are about another cliffhanger. Either way, I'm hoping to make up for the cliff hanger by posting in the next couple of days. Fingers crossed the muse is on the same page as me with that plan.**

 **Cheerio. :D**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N** **: And here we are with an update. Not quite as quickly as I hoped, but it's less than a week, so I'll take it.**

 **So, last chapter, killed off the Witnesses… as you do. Am I going to fix that in this chapter, or just go with it? Good question. Another good question is how do chickens know the size of egg cups? Enquiring minds need to know.**

 **I guess the best way to find out is to read the chapter… although probably not so much about the chicken thing. That will remain a mystery for the ages.**

 **Speaking of mysteries, which I seem to be obsessing over in this A/N's for whatever reason – I've had a couple of people reference my use of the word of 'Lieutenant' when Ichabod addresses Abbie. For all the non-British/Australian/Canadian people in my readership, just read that as Leftenant. The thing is, in the aforementioned countries, we spell it as 'Lieutenant' but pronounce it as 'Leftenant' – the spelling is the same, pronunciation is different. It used to be spelled differently back in the day as Leftenant, but that archaic form of spelling died out by the beginning of the 1900's as far as I know. So, that's why I still use the word Lieutenant but know that Ichabod would pronounce it as Leftenant.**

 **Okay, history lesson over. Suppose you want to crack on with the chapter now. I'm off to make my Sunday dinner. Can't decide what's on the menu yet. Probably not turtle. That's about as much as I can narrow it down right now.**

 **See you for the last chapter, hopefully sooner than later…**

 **CHAPTER SEVEN**

Hawley stood over the makeshift grave he'd just dug, shovel still in hand as he looked down at the body of Ichabod lying in that grave. He grimaced. "Sorry, man, I know I should say something here, quote the bible or something." Hawley hesitated. "I can only really remember the story about Jonah being eaten by the whale, which doesn't seem to really fit what happened to you." He screwed up his face. "And the only poetry I know are some limericks. Probably best not to go with that either. Somehow you don't seem like someone who's going to appreciate the story of a guy from Nantucket." Hawley sighed heavily and shook his head. "Sucks that you went out like this way, man. You weren't a total dick all the time. Just, you know, a lot of the time… mainly when you talked… which was a lot." He scratched at his beard. "Umm… amen." It wasn't the most memorable of eulogies, but seeing as his only audience was a dead man and a statue, it didn't matter that much. Hawley bent down and picked up a load of dirt with his shovel and tossed it on top of Ichabod's bloodied and broken body. He grimaced and shook his arm as the damaged limb protested the use. He still had a couple of shotgun pellets embedded in his arm, but he'd just thrown a bandage around it to stem the worst of the blood flow. The priority right then had been to try and work out what to do with Ichabod and Abbie. It wasn't like he could drive back into town with a dead man in his trunk, particularly as a statue was currently residing there. A statue of a well-known local police officer. He'd have enough explaining to do about Abbie, let alone a dead history professor who had enough questions asked about him when he was alive. The only option Hawley could come up with was burying Ichabod in the woods. Trying to work out what to do with Abbie was a second priority right then, because out of the two, she was the less likely to start to draw flies. His phone rang as he went for the next load of dirt, stalling him. Hawley drove the shovel into the ground and then answered his phone, grimacing as he saw who it was.

"Hey, Mills," he said, trying to sound as casual as possible. Telling Jenny her sister was now a garden ornament wasn't something Hawley was looking forward to, and he really didn't want to do it over the phone.

"Hey," said Jenny. "Have you seen Abbie? I've been trying to reach her but she's not picking up."

Hawley's gaze strayed to the back seat of his SUV. "Ah, yeah, I've seen her," he said vaguely.

"Recently?"

"Pretty recently."

"Where?"

"Where what?"

"Where have you seen her?" asked Jenny impatiently. "Is she there with you now?"

"Not exactly." Hawley really didn't want to do this over the phone. "She's… um… she's doing Witness stuff with Crane."

"So, they're together?"

Hawley looked at the partially dirt-covered Ichabod in his grave. "Yep, they are." He walked a little distance away from the grave. Ichabod's eyes were open and it was creeping him out. He'd tried to shut them but they wouldn't stay that way. A dead man's stare was pretty off putting.

"Okay, it's good that they're together," said Jenny, sounding relieved. "I always feel better when they are. They always have each other's back."

"Mmhm," said Hawley non-committedly. That was true. It was just this time it hadn't been enough. "So, when are you coming home?"

"Why, honey, are you wondering if I'll be home for dinner?" asked Jenny with amused sarcasm. "I thought we agreed that there was no point to… you know, us."

"I know," said Hawley quickly. "It's not that. It's just that, umm… we should probably talk when you get back."

"Why?" asked Jenny suspiciously. "What have you done?"

"Oh, like right away I've done something?" said Hawley, a little miffed. He didn't want to, but he felt guilty about the whole flask thing. He should have just told them what was in the flask, but it honestly hadn't occurred to him that either of them would drink it. Hawley told himself it really wasn't his fault, but as he was the last person standing out of this fiasco, he was most likely going to be taking all of the blame. At least in Jenny's eyes, anyway.

"You've always done something," said Jenny in exasperation. "Is it bad?"

"Umm… good and bad are pretty relative terms," he hedged. "I couldn't really say."

"Okay, is anything on fire?" she asked in mild irritation.

"No," said Hawley immediately, grateful he could at least deny that. "Nothing is on fire."

"Are demons trying to cross over into our world and bring on the Apocalypse?"

"Not that I'm aware of. At least not right at this minute."

"Then whatever it is can't be too bad."

"Okay then." Hawley was happy to take that out. "You sound tired." She'd left a day ago to look for an artefact that might be useful in their arsenal.

There was the sound of her stifling a yawn. "Yeah, drove almost straight through to New Orleans and been looking for my contact ever since."

Hawley looked up at the sky, wondering how the hell he was going to tell Jenny what had happened to her last piece of family. "You should have flown."

Another yawn. "I would have, but airports are weird about you carrying crossbows on planes these days, even ones that are meant to have vanquished Count Dracula himself."

"I hear that." He paused. "So, when do you think you'll be getting back?"

"Hopefully sometime tomorrow."

Hawley swallowed. "Okay, I'll see you then."

"When you see Abbie, tell her to give me a call, okay?"

"Will do," said Hawley hollowly. Jenny hung up and Hawley blew out a long breath. "Damn it," he hissed. Their next conversation was going to be hard.

"Am I in another hole?"

The incredulous question had Hawley reeling around and dropping his phone at the sight of Ichabod sitting up in his grave, looking around in confusion. Hawley stumbled backwards, slipping on some loose leaves and losing his balance. He ended up on his butt on the ground, but his eyes still didn't leave the sight of a now very much alive Ichabod.

Ichabod scowled fiercely. "I am, aren't I? I'm in another bloody hole."

"What… how… what?" gasped Hawley, staring at Ichabod and still not comprehending what he was seeing.

Ichabod seemed to be having a similar difficulty with comprehension as he took in the shovel stuck in the ground and the dirt which was in his lap. "Were you burying me?" he asked in outrage.

"Ah… yeah," said a dumfounded Hawley. "I was."

Ichabod took in his shallow grave, lips thinning in absolute disapproval. "I believe it's customary for a grave to be at least six feet deep," he snapped. "This laughable attempt is barely three feet in depth."

"You're critiquing my grave?" asked Hawley in amazement.

"There was no effort put into this at all," said Ichabod accusingly.

"The ground's really hard," protested Hawley. "You know how hard it is to dig a six foot deep grave?"

"Yes," said Ichabod sourly, "I do. I have buried many men in my military career and have always given them a decency of a final resting place that would not have seen them being picked over by woodland vermin." His look was pointed and full of condemnation. "Your slip shod attempts at grave making would see me carrion fodder in a matter of hours."

Hawley's eyes narrowed at Ichabod's censure, forgetting for a moment that he was talking to a dead man. "Well, that's easily fixed," he said sourly. "Get out and I'll dig you a ten foot hole. Then maybe I can finally get some peace and quiet from all of your yammering."

"Something which would not be an issue if you'd at least had the common decency to wait until I was dead before attempting to bury me," said Ichabod unabashed annoyance. He stood up, dusting himself down.

"Oh, you were dead, believe me," said Hawley unsteadily as he too stood up.

Ichabod sent him a look of exasperation. "Clearly I was nothing of the sort."

"You were every flavor of dead and then some," said Hawley hotly.

Ichabod rolled his eyes and stepped out of the grave. "Poppycock."

Hawley approached him, looking him up and down with some trepidation. "This isn't possible."

"Yes, you'd think a few seconds of your time to check a man's pulse wouldn't be too much to begrudge," said Ichabod bitingly.

Hawley came to stand in front of Ichabod, eyes glued to his chest which when he'd last seen it had been a mangled piece of tissue and bone. He stuck out a cautious finger and poked Ichabod in his newly reformed chest above the V of his shirt. It was solid and seemed perfectly unremarkable… which was impossible.

Ichabod slapped his hand away. "Do you mind?" he asked impatiently.

"Why aren't you dead?" asked Hawley in consternation.

"Because I wasn't dead to begin with," snapped Ichabod. "Obviously. You've just taken to randomly burying people who are—"

Hawley frowned. "Who are what? What do you think happened? What's the last thing you remember?"

Ichabod hesitated. "Ah…" He cleared his throat. "The Lieutenant and I were caught down a hole and-and—"

"And?"

"And then we weren't," he said hesitantly. "Because you rescued us." Ichabod pouted. "After being arguably as annoying as possible about the whole thing."

"And?" pushed Hawley. "What happened next?"

"I-we—" Ichabod blinked rapidly as his memory obviously returned. "Lieutenant!" he said anxiously. "Where is she?"

"In the back of the car," said Hawley, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.

Ichabod immediately raced over to the car and looked in the window. He gave a little cry of horror. "No!"

"Yeah, it's not good," agreed Hawley.

"You have her in the trunk of your car like she is some kind of spare tire," said Ichabod accusingly.

"I had to lay down the backseat for her to fit," said Hawley defensively. "The way Abbie's hands and legs are positioned, she doesn't fit in a regular space."

"And this was your solution?" asked Ichabod indignantly.

"Well, putting her on the hood as an ornament seemed a little insensitive," threw back Hawley. "It was either this or strap her to the roof rack, and frankly I had enough trouble getting her into the trunk. Abbie's only tiny, but weighs a ton when all that tiny is made of stone."

"This is unacceptable," said Ichabod angrily.

"Well, it was the best I could come up with and you weren't exactly in any condition to offer up any suggestions," said Hawley tersely. Unbelievable, the guy was back from the dead for two minutes and hadn't lost any of his ability to be instantly annoying.

"You could have waited," said Ichabod flatly. "I was merely knocked unconscious from that gun blast."

"You weren't unconscious, you were dead."

Ichabod put his hands on his hips. "Would you desist with your moronic assertions about my death? If you're so hell bent on insisting I was killed, how do you explain me standing here, talking to you right now?"

"Oh, I don't know," said Hawley sarcastically, "off the top of my head I'm going to go with _magic potion_." He grimaced. "That and God clearly hates me." Hawley had initially been happy to see Ichabod wasn't dead. Only, why couldn't the guy have come back mute? Was that too much to ask?

Ichabod's eyes went wide. "Magic potion?" he repeated unsteadily, seeming to finally start listening to him.

"Look at your shirt." Hawley inclined his head at Ichabod. "It's got holes in it and it's covered in blood. Now, either all that blood is from the world's worst manscapping attempt, or—"

"Or I was shot," said Ichabod hoarsely, taking in the state of his shirt for the first time.

"You were shot," agreed Hawley. "Kind of a lot."

Ichabod looked at his arm. "As were you."

"Flesh wounds," said Hawley dismissively.

"And the gunman?"

"Ran away screaming." He shrugged. "Probably a sound instinct."

Ichabod's shoulder's sagged. "The life I have taken from the Lieutenant has granted me another." His expression let Hawley know what he thought about that turn of affairs.

"Now don't go getting sucked into that guilt vortex of yours, Crane," said Hawley in exasperation. "There are enough things about you that suck. We don't need to be adding to that list."

"I am alive because I have killed Abbie," ground out Ichabod, his face contorted in grief and regret. "I am the one who should be dead in trunk of your vehicle."

"Well, if I had a choice, I'd prefer no one was dead in my car. You know, if anyone's asking." Hawley looked at Ichabod whose attention was back on Abbie. "Which nobody is, clearly." He cocked his head. "So, what do you think the deal is with you now? Are you permanently immortal or was this whole resurrection thing was a one-time deal?"

"I do not have the faintest notion," said Ichabod quietly. He put a hand on the side of the car, staring at Abbie though the window.

Hawley sighed, feeling the guilt vortex firing up again. "This isn't your fault, Crane."

Ichabod sent him a dark look.

"Okay, it's a bit your fault, with the kissing and sucking the life out of her and all."

Ichabod's expression hardened.

"This is where you're meant to say something uppity," prompted Hawley.

"I have no rejoinder to give, seeing as your allegations are true," said Ichabod painfully.

Hawley screwed up his face. "Oh come on, don't do that. It takes all the fun out of it when you get all guilt-ridden and stuff."

"I'm sorry I cannot be a greater source of entertainment for you, Hawley," said Ichabod dourly. "Apparently murdering people I care deeply about puts me in a less than jocular frame of being."

"Nobody has been murdered," said Hawley in exasperation. He paused. "Except for you, but you walked that off no problem. Maybe it'll be the same for Abbie. I mean, she's not dead dead, right? Just turned to stone. There has to be an undo button on this situation. We can fix this." Ichabod's uncharacteristic silence was making Hawley nervous. "Right?" he pushed.

Ichabod was back to staring at Abbie. "I do not know what to do next." His confession sounded utterly defeated.

Hawley made a clicking noise. "Oh come on, Crane, don't make me get my pompoms out on this one and shake 'em about."

That earned him a blank look from Ichabod. "I am unfamiliar with that word, but you may keep your shaking pompoms to yourself. I doubt they would help this situation in any shape or form."

Hawley rolled his eyes. "Either does throwing a pity party. Come on, you're usually the last person to give up. Now is not the time to try something new." His look became pointed. "She needs you, Crane. Enough with the guilt thing, time to man up."

Ichabod gave him a long, hard look.

Hawley held his gaze unflinchingly. "If you're thinking of throwing me into a tree, I just want to remind you I'm your ride home and only I know where the car keys are."

"They are in the ignition," said Ichabod coolly.

Hawley glanced past Ichabod's shoulder and grimaced. "Oh yeah, so they are." He put his attention back on the other man. "But still not cool with the tree thing, just so you know." Hawley tensed as Ichabod took a step towards him. This new Ichabod was somewhat unpredictable, it was hard to tell what was going to set him off. Actually, it wasn't that hard. Anything to do with Abbie pretty much would do it. He was one giant exposed nerve when it came to her.

Ichabod stalked past him. "Come along, man. We must make haste. This evil cannot be undone with us simply standing here."

"Um, okay," said Hawley, a little taken aback at Ichabod's sudden change in mood. "That was kind of my point, but whatever."

Ichabod was already climbing into the car and Hawley hastily followed. He really didn't want to keep Ichabod waiting in his current frame of mind otherwise the guy would probably just pick up the car and drag it to wherever they were going. His car had seen enough trauma today. Hawley settled in behind the wheel and turned on the ignition. "Where are we going?"

"The archive library," said Ichabod, his face set in stern determination. "You are right. There is a way to undo this, and I will find it."

Hawley tried not to look back over at their silent passenger. He'd just given the pep talk, but it was hard not to have doubts that this story had the longest of shots at having a happy ending.

 **#**

Ichabod heard the other man's footsteps on the wooden floors, but didn't look up. It would have done him no good even if he'd bothered, seeing as he'd created a wall of books which stood far above where he was currently sitting and could no longer see the door. He'd been holed up in the archive library since returning there at lunchtime. It was now nearly the same time the next day and Ichabod hadn't paused in his pursuit to find out as much as he could about the potion which had started all of this. Ichabod kept on scouring the latest book he'd found which might have some answers to undo what had befallen Abbie. "Your search was fruitful?" he asked distractedly.

Hawley's voice came to him over the tower of books. "The fruitiest of the fruit." He walked around into view, pulling a face. "Yeah, okay, I heard that, it was weird. Blame it on lack of sleep."

"Mm," said Ichabod with decided lack of interest in the other man's tiredness. Without looking up he held out his hand. "The pages."

Hawley placed the book leafs in his hand.

Ichabod finally looked up and scowled at the state of them. "They are torn."

"You're welcome," said Hawley sarcastically as he took a seat on a lower stack of books. "It wasn't me who threw them out of a moving car."

"The wind took them," said Ichabod shortly.

"Yeah, because somebody removed my entire car door to let that wind in." Hawley's look was pointed. "You're lucky I found them at all. Tell me I've got them all now, because I'm not going out again."

Both men knew that was a lie. Hawley's first two attempts at retrieving all the pages scattered in the woods of the original book from the bank had not resulted in him finding all of them. Ichabod had sent him out again for the final three. Hawley had complained bitterly, but they both knew he was going to do it if there was the slightest chance one of those pages contained any kind of antidote for Abbie.

Ichabod looked at the pages. "These are the remaining pages." His look was disapproving. "Or what remains of them."

"Hey, I had to throw down with a squirrel who decided it was great nesting material. You're lucky I have a way with animals."

Ichabod's eyes narrowed as he took in the state of the other man. "What is that scratch on your face?"

Hawley put a hand to his cheek. "The buck tooth little bastard took a swing at me while I was up the tree trying to get the pages back."

Ichabod arched an eyebrow. "A way with animals indeed."

"Hey, I got the pages back, didn't I? Almost killing myself in the process I might add."

Ichabod's tone was openly disdainful. "You were almost bested by a squirrel? An unsurprising turn of affairs."

"No, I fell out of the tree when he scratched me," threw back Hawley. "But not before I got the pages."

Ichabod shook his head. "Unbelievable."

"I wasn't seriously hurt, but thanks for asking," said Hawley acerbically.

"Of course you weren't seriously hurt," said Ichabod dismissively, already scanning the retrieved pages. "Otherwise you wouldn't be sitting here being bothersome."

Hawley looked over at Abbie where she was standing in the center of the room. "Yeah, I know, you should get a medal for working with this guy day in and day out. It must be nice to have a bit of a rest from him."

Ichabod glared at him for his flippancy. "You make light of the Lieutenant's predicament?" he asked fiercely. "Her life hangs in the balance."

Hawley stifled a yawn. "Sorry, guess I'm a little punch drunk seeing as I haven't slept in nearly two days now." He looked Ichabod over. "Neither of us have, but I guess only one of us has a little extra in the tank thanks to unforeseen circumstances."

"If you are tired then sleep," said Ichabod tightly. He felt clear headed and alert, but didn't require the reminder as to why that was the case when he hadn't eaten or slept in nearly two days.

"Nah, I'm good," said Hawley casually as he stretched out his long legs in front of him. "I blacked out for a bit when I fell out of that tree. I'm good to go. You found anything yet?"

"I have found reference to the Nephesh potion in another book."

"Oh, okay, that's good." Hawley hesitated. "Isn't it?"

Ichabod looked up from the page he was studying. "An old Algerian text references it and claims that to seal the transference of life, the stone must be shattered."

"The implication being that without pulverizing the stone person, there might be a way to get the soul back into the person?"

"Inference."

"What?"

"It's an inference, not an implication."

"They're the same thing."

"They are in no way the same thing. The person speaking implies, the person listening infers. They are two completely different things."

Hawley just stared at him with an unimpressed look.

Ichabod frowned. "What are you looking at me like that for?"

"Oh nothing, just remember how good it felt to fall out of that tree and land on that big old rock after being savaged by a squirrel," said a straight-faced Hawley. He waved a hand between them. "You know, compared to having my grammar corrected by you." Hawley gave an overly nostalgic sigh. "Ah… good times. I wonder what old rocky and squirrel are up to right now?" He shook his head and gave a disappointed click. "Man, that was actually kinda funny, but you wouldn't even know why."

Ichabod sent him a dour look. "May I infer from those unintelligible ramblings you do not appreciate my suggestions to help you render a tighter grasp on the English language?"

"You can infer your brains out, Crane," agreed Hawley laconically. "My grammar isn't the problem here."

"I do not need to be reminded of the problem," said Ichabod darkly. He was avoiding looking at Abbie because it was too distressing. Her expression was frozen in such a way that Ichabod knew her last moments as flesh and blood were ones she suffered in agony. That was hard to know, especially as he was the reason why. That knowledge caused him actual physical pain. He forced his dark thoughts down, and instead focused his attention on the retrieved pages.

"Anything interesting?"

Ichabod didn't answer, his pulse quickening as he finally found another reference to the Nephesh. He read feverishly, then reread it just to make sure he was understanding it properly.

"Hello, earth to most obnoxious guy on the planet."

Ichabod finally looked up.

Hawley smirked. "Made you look."

"I have an answer," said Ichabod unevenly.

Hawley gave a snort. "You don't announce pithy rejoinders, Crane, you just say them."

Ichabod's lips thinned. "I have an answer to the Lieutenant's predicament."

Hawley sat up straighter. "You do? What is it?"

"Do you still have the flask?"

Hawley reached into his jacket. "Yeah. Figured I was the most responsible person to look after it." He shook his head. "How the hell did I become the most responsible person in the room? You know the situation is bad when that happens."

Ichabod held out his hand. "Give it to me."

Hawley hesitated. "You're not going to drink it, are you?"

"Yes."

Hawley pursed his lips. "I think we can all agree that didn't work out too great last time."

"This text suggests that the life force can be returned to the original person if the one who originally stole the life breath was to partake of the potion and breathe that breath back into them." Ichabod's heart was pounding at finding a possible solution to this horror.

"Suggests?"

Ichabod moved a little restlessly where he was seated. "The text does not cite any known examples of this working—"

"So, what, it's just a guess then?" asked Hawley in horror.

"An educated one."

"But still a guess."

Ichabod's shoulders squared. "That does not matter. If there is only the slightest chance that the Lieutenant's life may be redeemed, I will attempt it."

"But what if it ends up turning you to stone as well?" Hawley looked worried.

"I do not believe that will happen."

"What are you basing that one?"

"Instinct."

"Where was that instinct when Mills was swigging statue potion?" snapped Hawley.

Ichabod's jaw hardened.

"Okay, say you don't get turned to stone, but have you thought about how you're only alive right now because of Abbie's life force or whatever. What happens if you do manage to give it back? Do you go back to being dead?"

Ichabod clicked his fingers together impatiently, hand still outstretched for the potion. "It does not matter what my fate is, only that Abbie is returned to life."

"Pretty sure she's not going to feel the same way."

"The potion," Ichabod ordered him. "This matter is not open for further discussion." If there was only the smallest hope this might work, Ichabod was going to take that chance. There was no other course of action to be taken to his way of thinking. Giving his life for Abbie was something he would always do without pause.

Hawley reluctantly handed over the flask. "I don't feel good about this plan."

"Which only serves to validate it further," said Ichabod simply. He took a long drink from the flask without hesitation.

"Well, that's that then," said Hawley in resignation. "What comes next?"

"The potion should now cleave our two life forces, separating them." Ichabod looked over to where Abbie was silently watching over them. "I have only now to return the Lieutenant's breath to her body."

"Via a handshake?" put up Hawley hopefully. "Because I've done a lot of things in the last two days that I'm not in love with, but watching you make out with a statue is probably crossing a line even I'm not comfortable with."

Ichabod gave him a hard look. "Then your presence is no longer required."

"So, you want to be alone to make out with stone Abbie?" Hawley screwed up his face. "That's even weirder, which I didn't think was possible."

"I will not be _making out_ with the Lieutenant," said Ichabod hotly, outraged at the suggestion.

"You mean again," shot back Hawley. "Don't make it sound like you're in virgin territory here, Crane. We wouldn't be standing here if you hadn't thrown your hat into that particular ring." He screwed up his nose. "Which came out way dirtier than I intended, but you know where I was going with that, right?"

"My only thought and motive is restoring the Lieutenant to life," said Ichabod sharply. "That is all that matters now."

"Even if you die in the process?"

"Yes, absolutely, without question." Ichabod had never been more certain of anything in his life.

Hawley stood up, rubbing the back of his neck. "Okay, if you're hell bent on doing this—"

"I am." Ichabod stood in front of Abbie, swallowing the lump in his throat at seeing her pained expression again.

"Alright then, so, if this goes horribly wrong, which, based on pretty much everything that's happened in the last two days, it will – is there anything you want me to tell Mills if, you know, you don't make it?"

Ichabod looked at Hawley, surprised at his thoughtfulness, and then looked back at Abbie. Without thinking he put out a hand to touch her cheek. It chilled his blood to feel only cold stone beneath his fingers when he could still remember so clearly the feeling of Abbie's soft, warm flesh against his skin. "Tell her I'm sorry," he rasped. "That this was all my fault. Tell her—" Suddenly there were a million things Ichabod needed to say to Abbie. They crowded his brain, all screaming to be heard, knowing that this might well be his last chance to tell her how important she was to him, how she'd changed his life forever and that he'd never met another soul like hers. Ichabod's thumb stroked Abbie's smooth cheek. "Tell her I—" Words failed him. His feelings in that moment were too all encompassing to be contained in mere words. How do you tell someone that they've fundamentally changed you as a person, that they've given you a purpose to a life that had always been looking for something more without even realizing it? Abbie and the life they were making together was the something more, it was everything. She was everything and Ichabod lamented the fact he'd never found the presence of mind to tell her that when he could. He cupped her face with his other hand, lost in the face he knew so well and just praying that if he was about to die, that he'd be granted just one last glimpse of those brown eyes looking into his eyes and seeing him. One last chance to be looked upon by a woman who saw all of his faults and foibles but stayed by his side regardless. Ichabod didn't finish his sentence. He simply ducked his head and pressed his lips to Abbie's lifeless ones, willing the life back into her body. The world couldn't lose this extraordinary soul and he'd gladly give his life to make it so.

"This feels like a new low point in my life," sighed Hawley from behind him.

Ichabod blocked the other man out, every sense locked onto Abbie, needing just the slightest indication that this was going to work. For one terrifying moment Ichabod feared that wasn't going to happen, then he felt a sudden flush of warmth against his lips. There was a brief concern that it was only his touch heating the stone, but then he felt Abbie's lips soften beneath his. Her cheeks were no longer cold, the flesh wonderfully warm and oh so blessedly supple against his hands. Ichabod opened his eyes just as Abbie's eyes once again became flesh and blood. She breathed a breath of surprise into his mouth, looking up at him in wonder. "Abigail," he breathed her name past her lips. Ichabod felt a euphoria threaten to split open his heart at seeing her return to life, but then that same heart was in excruciating agony. He gave a choked gasp of pain. He was forced to break the kiss as his knees buckled from the pain. Ichabod dropped to his knees, looking down at his chest.

"Oh crap," said Hawley, eyes on Ichabod's chest as well.

The flesh was breaking down and Ichabod could feel the air burning in his suddenly damaged lungs as he clutched at his chest.

"Crane!" Abbie's frightened cry had her suddenly dropping to her knees in front of him, grabbing at her chest as well.

Ichabod's eyes went wide in horror as blood started to soak through her blouse and he could see her skin breaking down as well, as though Abbie too had been shot. "No!" cried out Ichabod in distress. It seemed that in returning the breath to Abbie's body, he was also gifting her with the wounds that had taken his life.

"Double crap!" said Hawley, hovering anxiously over the two of them. "Not good, not good. What do I do? How do I stop this?"

Ichabod's agonized gaze was locked with Abbie's and then she was collapsing to the ground, and his body gave way, following suit. They both lay on the floor, matching gaping wounds opening up in their chests.

"Crane," gasped Abbie in shock and pain. "Wh-what's happening?"

"I'm s-sorry," said Ichabod through lips numb with pain. "I-I did this to you." He reached out blindly for her and then Abbie's hand was in his, squeezing it hard. There seemed to be no end to the horror he was intent on visiting down Abbie's head these days. Only he was meant to give his life, but now their fates seemed intertwined and Ichabod couldn't stand it.

"Definitely not the plan," said Hawley anxiously. He was crouched over them, not knowing how to help. "Worst case scenario was only one of you dies, not both."

"Oh God!" cried out Abbie, bucking up.

Ichabod gave his own grunt of pain as the burning in his chest reached a new crescendo. He could feel the flesh and bones being torn and broken and the coldness invading his body. But then there was also the heat as he felt like someone was stabbing him with a red hot poker. He held tightly to Abbie's hand, desperate to believe she wasn't going through the same level of agony, but knowing she must be. Suddenly the pain began to recede and Ichabod knew this must be death coming for him. He looked over at Abbie, who had tears in her eyes from the pain and he shook her head at her as they both lay there on the floor. "I am sorry," he whispered in anguish, seeing the pool of combined blood they were both lying in now. Abbie closed her eyes and squeezed his hand. "No!" yelled Ichabod. "Please, no!" He couldn't watch her die, not Abbie, it was too much. The pain was back, but now it was of another kind entirely.

"Whoa, this is crazy." Hawley's stunned declaration barely registered with Ichabod.

"Get her to a-a hospital," Ichabod ordered the other man. "They can save her." He wasn't giving up yet.

Hawley was looking between the two of them in confusion. "I don't think she needs saving, Crane, and neither of you do."

Abbie drew in an uneven breath, her eyes opening again as she looked down at herself in confusion. She went to slowly sit up, gingerly touching at her chest.

Ichabod looked on in astonishment as the torn flesh he could see above the V of her blouse started to repair itself, leaving behind only smooth skin. He looked down at his own chest and his wound was performing an identical miracle. The blood remained, but the damaged flesh and bone were being quickly repaired.

"Wh-what just happened?" gasped a confused Abbie. She put an unsteady hand to her head as she sat, bent over on the floor. "What is going on?"

Ichabod sat up, one hand still on his chest, but the other refusing to let go Abbie's. "It-it worked," he said with real amazement.

"What worked?" asked Abbie in frustration. "What's going on?"

"It all came out in the wash," marveled Hawley. "You got each other over the line somehow." He shook his head slowly. "Which is good… a little bit creepy with the statue kissing and the matching gaping chest wounds and all, but ultimately good."

"Who was kissing a statue?" asked Abbie in consternation. "Somebody tell me what is going on right now." Her voice was rising with her frustration level. Abbie went to stand up, but swayed badly, and Hawley caught her before she hit the ground again.

He lowered her back to the floor gently. "Careful there, you've both lost blood, possibly a lot, it's hard to tell."

"Why have I lost blood?" Abbie looked up at Hawley. "Have you been shot?"

"And savaged by a squirrel," confirmed Hawley. "It's been a rough forty-eight hours for all of us."

Abbie's attention was back on Ichabod. "Crane, are you alright? What the hell is going on? The last thing I remember is being kicked out of the getaway car and trying to get back to you."

"And you did," said Ichabod with a rush of emotion which threatened to overwhelm him. "You came back to me, Lieutenant." Nothing else mattered. Suddenly Ichabod was overcome with exhaustion and he collapsed back on the ground, overcome with relief. He closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands, not knowing what the way forward was with Abbie now, but just grateful they were both alive to even contemplate the question.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N** **: So here we are, the final chapter. And it's one very long chapter, possibly my longest I've ever posted, or close to. It's nearly 10 000 words long. No wonder these things take time. I almost split it, but then I didn't because it didn't feel right to. So, hope that works for you. :D**

 **I'm glad you've all forgiven me for killing the Witnesses. It was harsh, but it had to be done. Of course, I went ahead and unkilled them, so that might have something to do with the forgiveness factor. Guess we'll never know for sure though.**

 **So, this last chapter. Hopefully it rounds things out nicely for you all. Lots of talking. Lots of thoughts and feelings to explore. In summary, this chapter, it's full of lots… which is unbearably bad English… but you get my drift, right? Anyways, all worded out from this chapter, so I'll leave it there. Thank you to one and all for playing along with me – it's been fab!**

 **Have fun with it and we'll have a quick chat at the end…**

 **CHAPTER EIGHT**

Ichabod sat quietly at the main desk in the archive library, staring unseeingly at the test in front of him. His gaze flicked over to the entrance as Hawley strolled through the door. The other man gave a little start of surprise.

"You're still here."

Ichabod inclined his head. "Indeed."

Hawley looked at him blankly. "Why? Weren't you going home hours ago to eat, sleep and possibly change that shirt?"

"I was, but my attention was drawn towards other matters." Ichabod hoped Hawley would leave it there.

"What other matters?" Hawley walked up to where Ichabod was sitting and turned the book around Ichabod had been studying to read a few lines. "What are you doing? Haven't you had enough reading for today?"

"One can never acquire too much knowledge," hedged Ichabod, not really wanting to talk about what he was doing.

"I disagree. Watching you make out with a statue is definitely a knowledge I could have lived without." Hawley gave a little shudder. "So disturbing."

Ichabod pulled back the book from Hawley, shifting his attention back to it. "Indeed."

"So, what, we're not laughing about all of this yet?"

Ichabod looked up at him. "It has been a scant few hours since the Lieutenant was turned to stone," he said grimly. "And no matter how much time passes, it is hard to imagine ever finding the humor in such a horrific turn of affairs."

"You're a hard guy to shoot the breeze with, Crane," sighed Hawley. "Anyone ever tell you that?" He pulled up a chair and sat down across from Ichabod. "And you still haven't answered my question."

Ichabod's attention was back on the book as he studiously tried to ignore the other man's probing. "What question was that?"

"What are you doing?"

"I am simply reading. There is no mystery to it."

"What are you reading?"

"A book. It has no pictures, so it would be of little interest to you."

"Ouch, no, wait, not ouch, because I don't care what you think of me."

Ichabod suddenly felt guilty for his rudeness. He met Hawley's gaze steadily. "It occurs to me that I have not thanked you for all that you have done for myself and the Lieutenant in the last two days." Ichabod took a deep breath. "Thank you."

"Wow, okay, so you really don't want me to know what you're doing, huh?"

Ichabod frowned. "Excuse me?"

"I mean, you're willing to declare your undying love for me, so it's got to be pretty important." Hawley leaned back in his chair, folding his arms in front of him. "Let's see, what could it be?"

"I thanked you," said Ichabod dourly. "I am uncertain how you were able to extrapolate declarations of love, undying or otherwise, from such a courtesy."

"You thanking me is the equivalent of anyone else offering to have my baby," said Hawley knowingly. "You would only have done that if you're trying to distract me from something you don't want me to know about."

"Or, if I was genuinely thanking you," said Ichabod flatly.

"It's us, Crane, that's pretty unlikely. You still blame me for giving you the potion in the first place, and that's before we get onto your general disdain for my grave digging abilities."

Ichabod sighed heavily. "Can you not take an offer of gratitude with any hint of graciousness?" He shook his head at him. "What are you even doing here?"

"Came for my car keys. They are now the most intact thing about my vehicle."

Ichabod's lips pressed together.

"I think I'm going to go with bear attack when I tell my insurance company about the door, because weirdly enough they don't have a box for me to tick about two hundred year old guys hopped up on the soul of another person ripping off car doors at the hinge." Hawley scratched his cheek. "Which really feels like an oversight on their behalf if you ask me."

"I am sorry for the damage to your vehicle," said Ichabod stiffly. "My lack of control these past few days is not something I take any pride in."

"Another apology. Damn, you really want to distract me from what you're doing, don't you?" Hawley smirked. "Which means I definitely have to find out what it is you're doing now."

"I am doing nothing which would be of interest to you."

"It's about Mills, isn't it? Because of what you found out earlier."

"I have no idea what you are—"

"When you read that last bit of that page and found out that if you two ever lock lips again, you'll both be turned to stone, permanently."

Ichabod stiffened. When discovering there might have been a way to rescue Abbie from her stone imprisonment, Ichabod had not let himself dwell on the last line of the text which warned that if the returning ritual was performed, any further exchanging of breath would result in a permanent reoccurrence of that stone state for both parties. All that had mattered at the time was Abbie could be saved. And she had been. There had been some discussion afterwards in telling her what had happened, but Abbie had left a couple of hours ago in perfect health. It was only once Ichabod was alone with his thoughts that he really had time to consider the prospect of never being able to kiss Abbie again, for fear of killing them both.

It was startling to him how much that realization affected him, considering that prior to the last couple of days, they'd never exchanged so much as a kiss on the cheek. But now they had kissed, far more than just a peck and even while Ichabod still had not the first idea what to do with that knowledge, to know that it could never happen again had created an unrest in him that required action. He should have gone home and slept, but his brain wouldn't let him. Ichabod's insides were churning with the reality of his situation and even admitting that was difficult, because acknowledgement of how upsetting he was finding the possibility of never being able to kiss Abbie again was throwing his world into a tailspin.

"You're looking for a loophole in that 'no more tongue' post script, aren't you?"

Ichabod's hand tightened on the book he was reading.

Hawley laughed. "Nailed it."

"I have no idea what you are referencing," said Ichabod coolly.

"That'd be more convincing if you could unclench something on your body right now," smirked Hawley.

"Why should it matter to me if the Lieutenant and I are unable to—" Ichabod broke off what he was going to say next. "It is a good thing that our relationship will be returning to its original status quo."

"Is that you trying to convince me or yourself?" asked Hawley dryly. "Because I'm not buying it, and I'm pretty sure you're not either." He waved his hands at the books around them. "Hence all this sudden required reading you're doing when you should be unconscious after not having slept for two days."

"My relationship with the Lieutenant is none of your business," said Ichabod hotly, "but if it was, I would tell you that we are both perfectly happy with our working relationship."

Hawley shrugged. "Well, that's great, Crane, and frankly, good news from where I'm sitting."

Ichabod was suddenly wary. "Why is that?"

"Look, I'll admit that I was a bit surprised you put the moves on Mills in that hole."

"I did not put any moves on the Lieutenant," said Ichabod sharply.

"Mainly because that means admitting you're human, and you hate that."

"You think me inhuman?" asked Ichabod in surprise.

"No, I think you think you're inhuman, or above being human, something in that ballpark."

"You think I think I'm better than you?"

Hawley stared at him.

"Very well," backpedaled Ichabod. "There are certainly areas of your life where I do not believe you have any kind of code of honor which might inform your actions—"

Hawley held up his hand. "Crane, please, just stop. You think I'm a self-involved criminal, I think you're a pompous ass. I am totally cool with that. My point is that it actually makes me like you a little better, or hate you a little less, whatever, that when stuck in a hole with a beautiful woman, you did what any other man in their right mind would do."

Ichabod's eyes went wide. "Proximity to a woman, particularly an enforced one, in no way gives any man the right to press his advantage to extract any kind of liberties from her," he declared with real emotion.

"Pft," snorted Hawley. "If any man tried to extract any kind of liberties from Lieutenant Abigail Mills, they'd be looking for a needle and thread to sew their nut sack back on."

Ichabod scowled at him. "Do you have to be so uncouth?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, scrotal sac, does that offend you less?" asked Hawley mockingly. "But once again, you're missing my point, most likely on purpose. You kissed Mills in the hole because you wanted to and she wanted you to. Any other scenario would have seen a lot of bloodshed." He stretched out his legs in front of him, crossing them at the ankle. "And you don't know what to do with that information any more than you know what to do with the fact doing it again will kill you both."

Hawley's deadly accuracy in pinpointing Ichabod's plight was deeply unsettling and left him with only one recourse. "You are insane and so far from the truth in this matter it is laughable."

"Yeah, I noticed you can't stop with the laughing." Hawley smiled. "So, what, the hole thing was just a blip on the radar and now you're perfectly happy for everything to stay in your asexual Witness holding position deal you've got going on?"

"Perfectly content," said Ichabod resolutely. Saying the words aloud made him realize just how much of a lie they'd become.

"Great, works for me. Don't want to be stepping on any toes when I ask Abbie out."

Ichabod suspected this was a trap, but he couldn't help himself. "Such an undertaking would be nothing but folly."

"Why?"

"I do not have the time nor the inclination to list the number of ways in which such a union would be inadvisable," said Ichabod tightly.

"Just as well Abbie and me aren't asking your opinion then, isn't it?" asked Hawley cheerfully.

"Abbie and I," Ichabod corrected him.

"You just said there is no Abbie and you," said Hawley, willfully misunderstanding him. "And now you've got the Nephesh in both of your systems to make sure it never will." He grinned. "So, all in all, everything has worked out exactly how everyone wanted it to."

"I know what you are attempting to do," said Ichabod darkly.

"What am I attempting to do?"

"Rile me into an unguarded moment whereby I reveal something of my internal machinations to you and your gloating," he bit out.

"I've seen enough of your insides on the outsides in the last couple of days, Crane. I'm not lining up to see more. I just think it's adorable that you think you're fooling anyone with the 'just friends' crap you're trying to sell with you and Abbie. But, like I said, suits me because I think I have a real chance there, given our history."

"Would that be the history of you having a previous romantic entanglement with her sister?" asked Ichabod sweetly. "Because I have always been led to believe women can find such a thing to be less than enticing."

"Jenny and I are cool. We know it wasn't ever going to work out," said Hawley easily. "Abbie and I though, we've got a real spark."

Ichabod was trying not to think about that morning he'd come across a nearly naked Hawley in Abbie's kitchen. She'd said it had been entirely innocent, but Hawley was working hard that Ichabod should infer something different.

Hawley was just looking at him with a half-smile. "Go on, ask me about that morning. You know you want to."

Ichabod looked away sharply, annoyed that he was being so transparent when it came to this matter. "It is none of my business," he said at last. "Unless you undertake to hurt the Lieutenant, then I shall make it my business."

"Okay, but it's a pretty interesting story and that story has a happy ending."

Ichabod steeled himself to keep a neutral expression.

Hawley grimaced. "Damn, I made a pun there at the end, but I don't know if you got it. Do you know what a happy ending is, Crane?"

"You being struck down by lightening in the next ten seconds?" offered up Ichabod straight-faced.

"Sure, that's one kind, but there is another…" Hawley trailed off. "But I don't know how much effort I want to put into this getting under your skin thing. I might have to draw the line at pulling out the year eight anatomy books and circling the rude bits."

Ichabod closed his eyes, shaking his head. "If I thought there was any worth to uncover in your ramblings, I would contemplate trying to understand your meaning, but as I am certain there is none, I am going to end this conversation." He stood up. "I think it is indeed time to retire and recoup."

"Want a lift?"

"No," said Ichabod without hesitation. Being in a combined space with this annoying man was the last thing he wanted.

" _Need_ a lift?" countered Hawley.

Ichabod gave a frustrated grunt, knowing it was a long walk back to his cabin. "Yes," he said begrudgingly.

"Ask nice and I'll let you choose the song I'm going to whistle."

"You're insufferable."

"Near enough, but just for that, no whistling. You don't deserve whistling."

"Does anyone?" asked Ichabod sarcastically.

"Instead, we can talk about where I should take Abbie on our first date."

Hawley was relentless in his needling. "I've changed my mind. I will walk," said Ichabod flatly.

Hawley smirked. "Just admit that it bugs the hell out of you the thought of Abbie and me dating and I'll stop."

Ichabod glared at him. "The thought of you with any woman turns my stomach."

"You think of me with women?" Hawley pulled a face. "That's pretty weird, man."

Ichabod closed his eyes and sighed heavily. "I am leaving now." He started towards the door.

"Alright, fine, I'll stop," said Hawley, following him out.

"No, you won't," said Ichabod in resignation, too tired to fight anymore.

"You're right," said Hawley cheerfully. "I won't."

Ichabod gritted his teeth and kept walking. Maybe he would pass out from exhaustion in Hawley's car. A fellow could only hope.

 **#**

Abbie stepped out of the shower and toweled herself dry. She dressed in her pajamas, feeling the exhaustion of the last couple of days nipping at her heels. Apparently being turned to stone really took it out of a person. There was a lot to process about what had happened in those two days, and Abbie didn't really know where to start. She just knew she couldn't think clearly around Ichabod. A knock at the door distracted Abbie from thinking too much about why that might be. She moved to answer the door, surprised to see Jenny standing there. "Hey."

"Hey," said a frazzled-looking Jenny. "Can I stay here tonight? My landlord just rang me and said a water pipe burst in my apartment and I know have a swimming pool in my living room. I've been driving for the last fourteen hours straight. I can't deal right now."

"Sure." Abbie stepped back to let her sister in. "No problem." She saw the crossbow slung over Jenny's shoulder. "I see you found it."

"Yes, and it wasn't easy," said Jenny flatly. "I don't think I've slept in three days."

"I know the feeling," murmured Abbie as she watched her sister make a beeline for the spare room.

"I'm going to sleep for a week," announced Jenny. She threw a quick glance back over her shoulder to Abbie. "How about you? Anything exciting happen while I was away?" Jenny kept walking into the bedroom even as she asked the question. She didn't sound that invested in the answer to that question.

"Not much," said Abbie as she closed the front door behind them. "Got stuck in a booby trap with Crane, I took a magic potion by mistake, Crane and I made out for a while, before Hawley rescued us and then I got kidnapped by bank robbers. Then I was turned to stone because of the potion. Crane got shot trying to save me and died, but then he came back from the dead because he'd stolen my life force. Finally he turned me back from being stone by kissing me again, and now, if we ever do it again, we'll both be turned into statues."

Jenny was back in the doorway of the spare room, staring at her.

"So that was pretty much it," said Abbie, attempting to sound casual about the whole thing.

"You and Crane made out?" asked Jenny in disbelief.

"Really?" said Abbie in exasperation. "In a story with me being turned to stone and Crane dying and coming back to life, the thing you want to focus on is the kissing?"

"Yes, because that's the most unbelievable part of that story!" exclaimed Jenny. "Damn it, why did you have to be so interesting when all I want to do is sleep?"

"Then sleep," said Abbie defensively. "I'm not stopping you."

"You just told me you and Crane hit first base and expect me not to have questions." Jenny snorted loudly. "Yeah, no, that's not going to happen." She jabbed a finger at the couch. "Sit."

"I'm tired. I was just going to bed."

"Sit," said Jenny sternly. "I have a lot of questions and you're not going to get any sleep until I have answers."

Abbie rolled her eyes, not sure she had that many answers to give. Still, she took a seat on the sofa beside Jenny, because she knew her sister wasn't about to let this go. "I don't want to talk about this right now," she grumbled.

"Yes, you do, otherwise you wouldn't have told me about it in the first place," said Jenny with great certainty. "You would have just said everything was fine and I'd be unconscious by now. Clearly you need to talk about this just as much as I want to hear about it." She nudged Abbie. "So, spill, leave out no detail, no matter how small. Start at the beginning. Why were you and Crane in a hole? What kind of hole was it?"

Abbie sighed heavily, realizing Jenny really did want all the details. There was no escape. So, she told Jenny everything that had happened, from why they were out in the woods that night up to when Jenny had knocked on her door. Abbie recounted everything she remembered and all that Crane and Hawley had told her. When she was done, Jenny was silent for a long moment.

"Well," said Jenny at last, "that's quite a story."

"I know."

"Crane kissed you."

"Again, don't think that is the biggest part of that story."

"Of course it is. It's you and Crane macking on one another. That's obviously the most amazing part of that story."

"No, it isn't," said Abbie in irritation, "and even if it was, it's never going to happen again. It can't."

"And how do you feel about that?"

Abbie attempted a casual shrug. "It's good, makes things easy."

Jenny's expression became openly skeptical. "Really?"

"What?" said Abbie, suddenly nervous with the way her sister was looking at her. "Why did you say it like that?"

"The only way the certain death kiss would make things easy is because you're looking for an out with dealing with the fact you want Crane to kiss you again."

Abbie gave her an unimpressed look. "That's crazy. Why would I want Crane to kiss me again?"

"Well, there's a question for the ages, and one you seem pretty happy you don't have to answer thanks to the aftermath of that potion thing."

"I don't have a problem with what I think about kissing Crane again," said Abbie quickly. "It's a bad idea. It was stupid that it happened in the first place and I'm relieved it's behind us now."

"You sound relieved," said Jenny acerbically.

"I am," said Abbie defensively. "Crane and I could never be together like that. There is too much at stake. Now, it's off the table once and for all, and that's a good thing."

"How was the kiss?" asked Jenny suddenly.

Abbie hesitated. "Wh-what, umm, what do you mean?"

"I mean, how was the kiss, was it good?" She was watching Abbie intently.

Abbie fidgeted on the spot. "I don't know, what's a good kiss?"

"One that makes your toes curl, makes you forget about everything else." Jenny gave a small smirk. "One that gives you lady tingles."

Abbie felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment. "There was no tingling." Only there had been, a lot of it, all over her body.

"That blush is telling a different story." Jenny arched a knowing eyebrow. "On a scale of one to ten, rate your lady tingles."

"There were no—"

"This will be over a lot quicker if you just tell the truth." Jenny gave her a pointed look. "You know I'm not going to let this go until I get the whole story out of you. Just give in and this will go a lot easier on you."

"Okay, fine," snapped Abbie. "Of course there was tingling. I'd just poisoned myself with that potion."

"So, what, the potion caused the kissing?"

"Yes, obviously."

Jenny's eyes narrowed. "Crane took the potion too?"

"Um… no."

"But didn't you say he kissed you first?"

"Yes."

"Then why is he kissing you if he didn't take the potion?"

"Maybe the potion aerosoled and he just breathed it in?" Abbie hated how desperate she was sounding.

"Or maybe he just wanted to kiss you?"

"Why would he want to do that?" asked Abbie tightly.

"I don't know, why don't you ask him?"

"Because we're not talking about it." _Thank God._

"That's not really a solution to your situation."

"Of course it is," said Abbie uncomfortably. "Crane is British. Those people invented repressing stuff, and I'm totally on board with that."

"You know that what you two did isn't a bad thing, right?"

Abbie scowled at her. "Of course it's a bad thing. Crane is marr—" She stopped abruptly and bit her bottom lip.

"Married?" finished Jenny gently. "Not anymore he isn't."

Abbie shook her head in an attempt to clear it. "That doesn't matter. It doesn't change anything between us."

"It changes the scope of potential between you two," said Jenny knowingly. "Are you telling me you've never considered what Katrina's death might mean for the two of you?"

"No, why would I?" Abbie's lips tightened. "What Crane and I have as Witnesses works. Why would we want to mess with that?"

"That's a good question. You know, for the guy who kissed you."

"I don't want to know why Crane kissed me," said Abbie stubbornly.

"Why not?"

"Because it was just a weird blip in our radar. It doesn't have to mean anything."

"Unless you want it to," said Jenny quickly. "Do you want it to?"

"No," said Abbie immediately.

"That was a quick answer."

"I didn't have to think about it," said Abbie flatly.

"Well, maybe you should."

Abbie looked at her in open disbelief. "You think Crane and I should get together? Become some kind of couple?"

"You two are a couple," said Jenny practically. "The type and scale of that coupling is something that has always had external limits placed on it, and now they're gone and it just comes down to what internal limits the two of you want to impose on yourself. And, I'm sorry, not dealing with the fact that Katrina dying changes things about your relationship with Crane doesn't make it any less true. It just makes you more vulnerable to getting caught off-guard." Jenny lifted one shoulder. "Case in point – hole make out."

"I don't want anything to change between Crane and me," said Abbie emotionally.

"Then you have to tell him that. You two are close, but you're not mind readers. The Witnesses need to be in sync because the world is kind of depending on you two." Jenny's look became sympathetic. "It sucks that is how it is, but what can you do? You two, it's not just you two and whatever decision you make about what the two of you should ultimately be to one another, you have to make it together, otherwise it's not going to work."

"You know what I hate about you?"

"The fact I make so much sense and you don't have a way out from my ruthless logic?" asked Jenny in wry amusement.

Abbie grimaced. "Pretty much."

"Look, you need Crane, he needs you, and the world needs both of you. Figure out what all of that looks like together, because not being together for you two isn't an option."

"Well, it's not going to look romantic, because it can't be," said Abbie with determined pragmatism. "If we kiss again, we will literally die. There is no decision to make."

"Other than how you both feel about that."

"Weren't you tired and going straight to bed to sleep for a week?" asked Abbie in exasperation at Jenny's relentlessness.

"Hey, don't send the messenger to bed without supper just for speaking the truth," said Jenny in amusement. "You and Crane just need to work this all out, and then maybe we can get some real work done around here."

"It's worked out, it's done," said Abbie firmly. "We have no options open to us other than what we already share, and I'm fine with that and I'm sure Crane is too. We don't have time to play the what if game when there is no chance of it ever happening. There are too many other important things that need our attention and we both know that."

"Then if you're both so sure and certain of everything and so happy with the status quo, then I guess you'll both have no problem with the sleeping thing." Jenny gave her a calm smile. "Because you two are both so Zen about your relationship, and how it can't be touched by minor things like human emotions."

"That's right," said Abbie, not willing to back down on this. She couldn't, because she didn't know what giving up ground on this matter would leave her to stand on. Abbie suspected there would be no ground and she'd be back down that hole, and Ichabod couldn't be in that hole with her, because unpredictable things happened in holes which didn't do anyone any good.

"Fantastic." Jenny stood up. "Then I'll let you get back to your sleeping-like-a-baby-because-you've-got-your-whole-life-planned-out thing."

"Yes, I have, and yes, I will," said Abbie defiantly.

Jenny smirked down at her. "Awesome to be you then."

"Yes, it is!" called out Abbie after her as Jenny wandered back into her bedroom. As soon as her sister was behind closed door, Abbie's shoulders slumped. "Awesome to be me," she muttered with a lot less bravado. Determined to prove her sister wrong, Abbie headed for bed herself, feeling more tired than ever. Despite that tiredness though, Abbie lay in her bed long after Jenny's light had gone off, sleep evading her. She couldn't get her brain to shut down and lying there willing yourself to sleep was the single most frustrating thing you could do with your time. Along with knowing your little sister was right and you were wrong. That just added to the general annoyance Abbie was feeling.

She sat up in bed, throwing off her covers. There was no way she was going to be able to sleep tonight at this rate. Perhaps a drive would clear her head, rid herself of those thoughts and questions which were plaguing her and stealing her sleep. Abbie dressed quietly and let herself out of the house, careful not to disturb Jenny, mainly because she didn't need round two of the Spanish Inquisition. She got into her car and just drove aimlessly. There was no place she was intending on going, but when she found herself turning onto a familiar back road Abbie grimaced but didn't turn around. Instead she parked her car a little ways out from Ichabod's cabin and walked the rest of the distance on foot. She didn't want to disturb him with the sound of her car if he was asleep, and hopefully she'd come to her senses with the walking and just turn around.

Abbie walked up the path to Ichabod's cabin, not even sure why she was doing this. There was a single light on in the house, but it was muted. Smoke from the chimney told Abbie that it was most likely from the fireplace. Ichabod was probably asleep. Of course he was asleep. He'd just spent the last two days awake and trying to work out how to save her sorry ass. Abbie's footsteps slowed. She should just let him be. It was crazy to think he'd still be up at two o'clock in the morning even if the last couple of days hadn't happened. It wasn't his problem that she couldn't sleep, even if he was the reason. Still, Abbie found herself continuing up the steps of the cabin and standing on the porch regardless of her inner monologue telling her she was being idiotic and inappropriate. The last thing Ichabod would be looking from her was some kind of late night visit. Abbie had raised her hand to knock on the door to announce her presence, but it hovered there, common sense fighting against whatever the hell this compulsion was to see Ichabod. She closed her eyes, realizing how fraught with danger this whole thing was considering she didn't even know what she wanted to say to Ichabod in the first place. Abbie let her hand drop down by her side. This was stupid, she was being reckless again. Hadn't she learnt her lesson from the last time she did something without thinking? Frustrated at her lack of self-preservation, Abbie turned on her heel and headed quickly down the steps and away from temptation.

"A wise judgement, Lieutenant."

Abbie started at the sound of Ichabod's voice coming from behind her. She whirled around and squinted into the dark.

"I am not at home."

"Crane," she said, peering into the darkness, "where are you?"

"I am here." He moved and Abbie was able to see Ichabod now. He was sitting with his back against the woodpile, long legs stretched out in front of him.

She shook her head at him. "What are you doing sitting here in the dark?"

"It was too nice of a night to be indoors," he said mildly. "As much as I am grateful for the shelter of my cabin, sometimes it is nice to feel nothing between yourself and the heavens."

Abbie walked over to where Ichabod was propped up against the pile of logs. "Aren't you cold?"

Ichabod smiled as he looked up at her. "Not that I have noticed. I tend to feel the heat more so than the cold."

Abbie could believe that. When she'd been stuck in that hole with him, Abbie had been able to feel the heat rolling off of his body. Ichabod definitely ran hot, a thought she wasn't entirely comfortable thinking. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "I-ah… I'm sorry to disturb you."

"You're not disturbing me," said Ichabod quietly, still staring up at her.

"It's late," pointed out Abbie. "I should let you get some sleep."

"Or you could tell me what it is that brings you to my door at this hour," he suggested.

"What if I don't know why I'm here?" she asked unsteadily.

Ichabod gave a wry, half-smile. "Then you are in most excellent company, Lieutenant."

Abbie opened her mouth and then closed it again, unsure of what to make of that comment. Did Ichabod mean he didn't know why she was here either, or why he was here in this time and place? Damn it, just when had their relationship gotten so confusing?

"We're being watched," noted Ichabod.

Abbie tensed on instinct, quickly looking around.

Ichabod pointed a finger above her head and her gaze followed where he was pointing. On a branch far above their heads sat an owl with creamy-white under feathers and a mottled, tawny feathers along its wings and back. The creature blinked down at them with large brown eyes.

"It is a Pharaoh eagle owl," observed Ichabod. "And it has taken roost in that long leaf pine tree."

Abbie tilted her head. "I haven't seen that kind of owl around here before."

"That's because its home should be in Africa, not North America."

Abbie's eyebrows went up. "He's a long way from home."

"Very much so."

Abbie looked back at Ichabod. "Is he lost? Gotten off track from some kind of migration?"

Ichabod gave a short shake of his head. "No, these owls do not migrate. Most likely he was a former pet or part of a collection and has managed to escape captivity."

"Oh." Abbie paused. "Will he be alright here?"

"The Pharaoh eagle owl is used to hunting in deserts, so this will be an adaptation for him." Ichabod smiled again as he looked up at the creature. "But nature has always proven itself to be wonderfully flexible when it has to be."

Abbie stared down at him, taking in Ichabod's suddenly wistful expression. "You don't know why you're here, do you? That's what you meant earlier."

Ichabod looked up at her in surprise. "I know why I am here, Lieutenant. I have a call to arms as a Witness, ordained by Fate."

Abbie looked back up at the eagle owl. "But this isn't your home, is it?" That thought made her sad.

"Home is many things throughout a person's life," said Ichabod softly. "When you are a child, it is most likely to be where your parents reside. As you grow into adulthood, it is where you forge your own life, create your own family."

Abbie sat down beside him now. The grass was cool beneath her hands as she propped herself up against the same woodpile Ichabod was leaning on. They were talking in low voices because the night was so quiet and still, to talk at a normal volume would seem almost disrespectful, like the reason you don't talk loudly in a church. Plus, there was something about a conversation in the early hours of the morning which called for it to be conducted in whispers. Conversations after midnight were for the select few, and not to be broadcast to the world. She looked up at him sympathetically. "And now your family is gone."

Ichabod gave a small, pained smile. "I lost my family long ago, Lieutenant." He looked up at the stars above them. "I viewed a program on the television recently whereby the scientists of your time have discovered that light takes so long to travel the vast distances from the stars to our planet, that we still see their glow long after the stars themselves have passed into dust." Ichabod's expression became hard to read. "I have come to understand that is what has happened with Katrina and Jeremy. They passed from my life long ago, but their light continued to shine, making me believe they were still there." He swallowed hard. "Only they weren't. It was a trick of the light."

Abbie couldn't help herself. She wrapped her arm around his and squeezed it tightly. "I'm sorry, Ichabod," she whispered. "I wish things had been different for you and your family."

"I do not think that could ever have been possible, given my destiny," said Ichabod seriously. "Or maybe that is wishful thinking on my behalf, borne of a need to absolve myself of this guilt which hounds me every moment of every day about the fate of my wife and son."

"They made their own choices in this life. Ultimately, we all do. We can point fingers and blame at others, and we can choose to let them effect our actions, or we can choose those actions for ourselves. The point is, the choice lies with each of us." Abbie suddenly realized what she'd just said, and what it meant for the situation she found herself in regarding the man sitting next to her. She gave a little groan, slumping back the neat piles of wood.

"Lieutenant?" asked Ichabod in concern.

She shook her head at him. "Nothing, ignore me."

"An impossible request."

Abbie gave him a sharp look to see Ichabod smiling down at her with a self-deprecating look.

"But thank you for your words of solace to me. I very much appreciate them."

"You're welcome." Her words had made Ichabod feel better, but they'd made her feel anything but. She'd just declared that they all ultimately made their own choices in this world, which meant that she'd chosen to return his kisses in that hole. Abbie wasn't quite ready to accept that, despite Jenny's relentless pursuit of her about that fact. "Kind of on that subject, but not really – in that book you were reading about the Nephesh and how to undo the soul stealing thing, was there—"

"The Nephesh potion does not cause an altering of the senses or urges of the people exposed to it." Ichabod preempted her question. His look was pointed and full of understanding. "What passed between us was entirely due to us, Lieutenant. There was no magical or chemical inducement."

Abbie's shoulders sagged. "Oh." There went that out for her behavior.

"I know, and believe me, I searched very hard for any hint of such an effect."

Abbie wrinkled her nose. "So, that thing down the hole, that was all us, huh?"

Ichabod held her gaze steadily. "It would seem so."

Abbie gnawed on her inner lip. "Why did we do it?" She searched his face for any hint of an answer. "Why would we just kiss like that?"

"Such an excellent question, one I have pondered long and hard," said Ichabod seriously.

"Come up with an answer?" Abbie wasn't sure she was ready to hear his conclusions, but not having her own answer to that question was driving her crazy. At this point she was willing to consider any crazy answer Ichabod could come up with. "What do you think? Some kind of lack of oxygen scenario from being crammed into that hole that way? Or maybe that dirt really was enchanted or something, we never really ruled that out. Or maybe—"

"I wanted to kiss you."

Abbie blinked, taken aback by Ichabod's frankness. "Yes, but why? There had to be some outside reason why it happened. It doesn't make any sense otherwise."

"I have come to the conclusion that a first kiss between a man and a woman is the most nonsensical thing that could ever happen," said Ichabod simply, "and trying to make sense of such a thing is an act of futility."

Abbie frowned. "How is a first kiss nonsensical?"

"Because it flies in the face of all reason. It is impossibly hopeful, and that hopefulness can be based on little more than a look, or a word or simply a moment in time. A first kiss evokes deep magic of a kind that, by its very nature, is not to be understood, but simply experienced."

Abbie hadn't known what she wanted Ichabod to say about those kisses, but this was definitely not what she was expecting. "What does that all mean? For us?" Then she remembered their predicament and her question was a moot one. "Never mind. It doesn't mean anything, not for us, because it can never happen again." Abbie took a deep breath. "Which is a good thing. Because what we do, it's too important to mess up with-with a romantic relationship." This whole conversation had been an unexpectedly emotional one for Abbie, so it felt good to have a hard, cold fact to hang her rationale on. There was no need to really understand that kiss because it couldn't happen again, under pain of death.

"I have found a way to nullify the aftereffects of the Nephesh potion," said Ichabod quietly.

"You have?" Abbie pulled back to look at him in surprise. "How, when?"

"I have been reading around the subject since I last saw you." He grimaced. "It was pointed out by a secondary party that my research on the subject was perhaps carried out a little obsessively. Nonetheless, I did come across a mention of an orb of Thessalonica which is known for its ability to neutralize the aftermath of potions such as the Nephesh. Its current location is reportedly in the Smithsonian, which would mean travel and possibly some afterhours activities regarding the museum, but it is a possibility." Ichabod was back to regarding her steadily. "If that was something we wished to investigate."

Abbie felt the silent question hanging between them. They'd both been gifted with the perfect out for never having to address the potential of a romantic aspect of their relationship ever again. Now, suddenly that was under threat and it was back to them having to choose what they wanted to do about that. Abbie seriously couldn't read Ichabod's feeling on the subject in his expression. She chose her next words very carefully.

"Crane, what we do is so important, so vital. No two other people in the world can do what we can."

"I know."

"We can't screw it up," she said emotionally, voicing a real fear she had. "We've sacrificed so much to even get here. It can't all come to nothing. I won't let it."

Ichabod stared at her for a long moment. "I have not sacrificed anything."

"Yes, you have, of course you have," said Abbie quickly, surprised by his denial. "Look at all you've lost to being a Witness."

"No," said Ichabod sadly, "it was no sacrifice on my behalf because I had it taken from me, it was not my decision. I have lost the possibility of ever reconciling with my father, of being a good husband to my wife, to being a nurturing father to my son. All these possibilities were ripped from me, I had no control over any of them, no voice in their outcome."

Abbie was holding her breath and she didn't know why until Ichabod finished what he was saying.

"This may be wildly selfish of me to say, Lieutenant, but I do not wish to have one more possibility taken from me," he said hoarsely. Ichabod's eyes searched her face. "I do not know what, if anything should or would happen between us again. I do not know what the right thing to do is. I only know that I would very much like to have a voice in the course of my life on this matter, for yet another possibility not to be taken away from me."

"I've just spent this evening being grateful that I don't have a choice," said Abbie faintly.

Ichabod looked quietly sad about that fact. "Then we are at odds on this matter." He looked away.

Abbie swallowed hard. "What I meant to say was that I've just spent the last few hours telling myself that I'm happy the Nephesh took away any free will we had about-about—" She cleared her throat nervously. "You know."

Ichabod was back to regarding her unblinkingly. "I know."

"I-I have this problem, where sometimes I make myself feel what I know I should be feeling because it's the right thing to do, not necessarily because that's the way I feel. I don't let myself consider any other option because I need to do the right thing, all the time. It's like a compulsion."

Ichabod half-smiled. "Some would argue a noble one."

"Maybe, but sometimes it ends up with me having this disconnect between my thoughts and feelings."

Ichabod titled his head. "You feel a disconnect between those two things in regards to me?"

"Crane, ever since I've known you, you've been married, in love with another woman. There was no way I would ever have—"

"Of course you wouldn't," he interrupted her. "Any more than I would have."

"Which was fine. It was good, I was happy with how we were together."

"As was I," said Ichabod softly.

"But then… now—"

"Yes, now."

They stared at one another.

"Now I am without a wife, but—"

"She's not gone from your life," finished off Abbie quietly. "I know that, Crane. I can see that, and I wouldn't expect it to be any other way. You wouldn't be who you are if it was." Abbie knew feelings didn't just dissipate. She knew Ichabod still struggled with his guilt over Katrina and the loss of the future he'd always dreamed of having with her.

"May I ask you a question I have no earthly right to ask of you?"

They were still holding each other's gaze unflinchingly. "Yes," she whispered.

"Do you have romantic feelings for Hawley?"

Abbie blinked rapidly, not having expected that. "Seriously, Hawley again? Is this still about that morning? I told you nothing happened. Why won't you believe me?"

Ichabod looked away abruptly. "Above all else I desire honesty between us, Lieutenant, no matter if it might offend or cause temporary ill-ease."

"I'm being honest with you, Crane. You just don't seem to want to believe me for some reason." She made an exasperated noise. "You want to know what happened that morning, my word isn't good enough for you? Fine. Hawley was at my place really early that morning because he was heading out of town on some kind of job. He stopped at my place to pick up a gun Jenny had left with me, because apparently Hawley needs a lot of hardware to do his 'job'. Anyways, I was already up, because I'd heard this mewing sound coming from somewhere in my house. I'd been looking all over because I could tell it was cat in distress which must have gotten itself trapped somewhere. I finally found it in a heating vent but it'd backed itself into a corner and I couldn't reach it. That's when Hawley turned up. He could reach the cat because his arms are so much longer than mine, but the cat didn't really appreciate the gesture and scratched his chest up pretty good before heading back to next door where it lives."

"Kitty likes to scratch," murmured Ichabod. "A surprisingly truthful declaration from our Mr. Hawley."

Abbie gave him an odd look for that statement. "Yeah, well, he got blood all over his shirt and as he was on his way out of town, I got him to give it to me so I could clean it. That's why Hawley was in my house without a shirt on." Her look was disapproving. "Happy now?"

"Forgive my impertinence in needing to know the story in its entirety, Lieutenant," said Ichabod stiffly.

"I can forgive it if I could understand it," said Abbie in frustration.

A flicker of pain passed over Ichabod's face. "From the very beginning of my relationship with Katrina, she lied to me. I believe it was initially to protect me, but then it was to protect herself and then finally, those lies became a wall between us and led to her ultimately turning on me, on our union. I lost my wife long before she died in my arms, and the lies between us were the beginning of the end for our relationship."

"Crane, I'm not Katrina," said Abbie in shock. "I'm not lying to you."

"I did not believe Katrina to be lying to me either, but it became evident that she was." Ichabod's expression was strained. "I have always prided myself on being able to see through pretense and strike at the very heart of the matters going on around me, but when it comes to those I hold closest to my heart, it seems I must acknowledge a blind spot, where my wits are not to be trusted."

"You can trust me, Ichabod," said Abbie firmly. "Tell me you know that."

"I do," said Ichabod huskily. "It is trust in myself that I lack."

"Well, you shouldn't, because I trust you implicitly."

"Such a thing might be considered folly given my many past missteps," said Ichabod sadly.

"Trusting someone isn't about them never getting anything wrong, it's about understanding why they're doing something, even if you don't agree with it. I know you, Crane, and I believe in that man I know, and I hope you feel the same way about me."

"Immeasurably so," said Ichabod emotionally. His eyes drifted from her eyes to her lips and Abbie knew what he was thinking because she was thinking the same thing.

Kiss me.

Kiss me and stop all this confusion, take away all the uncertainty with the feeling of your lips on mine, because I stop thinking then as well, and it's just the two of us and nothing is hard or impossible. But they couldn't lose themselves like that, and both realized the danger at the same time, abruptly looking away from each other and staring straight ahead.

"Crane," said Abbie unevenly, "how I feel about this-this possibility between us—"

"Yes," said Ichabod swiftly, both of them still looking determinedly ahead.

"I lose everyone I love," said Abbie painfully. "My parents, Corbin, Jenny—"

"Miss Jenny was returned to you."

"Because of you," said Abbie unsteadily. "Without you, Jenny wouldn't be in my life. Without you, I don't even know what my life would look like." Both of their hands were palms down by their sides as they sat there together. In their conversation, Ichabod's little finger had come to rest against Abbie's little finger as they talked. It was the smallest and most accidental of touches, but one Abbie was vividly aware of. She wondered if Ichabod was taking as much notice of the small intimacy as she was.

"I also share a similar bewilderment at a life which does not contain you," said Ichabod huskily.

"And if we go and find this cure for our, um, issue, and we decide that we want to, you know, and it all goes horribly wrong, because let's face it, neither one of us has the best history in the whole romance department, then I don't know what I'd do." Abbie couldn't look at Ichabod now. "I-I need you, Crane." It was so hard for her to say those words because Abbie was at pains to remain as independent as possible in this life, because relying on people only ended badly, but it was a truth she couldn't escape any longer.

"And you have me, Abbie," said Ichabod in a low voice. His little finger moved and placed itself on top of her little fingers, entwining the two digits together. "As broken and uncertain as this man sitting beside you is, you have all of him, unreservedly so."

Abbie felt tears prick her eyes at how heartfelt Ichabod's assertion sounded. She really couldn't look at him now, scared at how vulnerable she felt in that moment. Ichabod leant in and she felt him press his lips against her temple. Abbie closed her eyes and leaned into the comforting touch. "I-I want choices in my life," she confessed brokenly, realizing she was the same as Ichabod after all. So much had been taken from her without her being able to make any choice in that loss. That happened in everyone's life, but could she really walk away from something which would result in losing one more choice in her life? Abbie realized it wasn't in her nature to give up anything. She was a fighter, and even if that instinct took her into uncertain or new terrain, she knew she couldn't shy away from that reality. "There is too much that has happened to me and will happen to me I don't have a say in. I don't want this to be one of those things." It was a truly terrifying admission on her behalf.

"Whatever happens, no matter what passes between us," said Ichabod softly, his lips brushing her temple as he spoke. "You will have me. This is my vow to you and I will never break it."

"Unless you die," she whispered fearfully, acknowledging how much that would devastate her now.

"Even unto death and beyond, you have me, Lieutenant. Our bond will never be broken, because at our very core, we are eternal creatures. Eternity, by its very definition, has no end and either shall what we share."

Ichabod sounded so incredibly certain about what he was saying, it was hard for Abbie not to believe him. "Crane, if we do this, if we find this orb and undo the effects of the Nephesh, I don't know what I can promise you, if I'll ever be ready or able to change how things are between us."

Ichabod drew back, resting back against the woodpile once more, but their fingers remained entwined. "The only promise I would covet from you is that you will not forsake me, no matter how much of a pompous ass I might be at any given moment."

Abbie looked up at him to see a little smile dancing around Ichabod's lips.

"Anything beyond that fondest hope I would deem an extravagance beyond realistic expectation."

Abbie couldn't help but give a little laugh at Ichabod's open self-deprecation. "There had to be an easier way to say that."

"If you have understood my meaning well enough, an argument may be made that an alternative way to state my feelings would be indeed redundant." His look was teasing. "Are we in agreement on this matter?"

"About me not forsaking you?"

"Yes."

Beneath the light tone Ichabod was trying to maintain, she heard the seriousness in his response. "I won't forsake you," said Abbie sincerely, an answer which gifted her with a look of relief from Ichabod. "And just for the record, you're not always a pompous ass, Crane," she teased him. "Sometimes you are just an ass."

Ichabod clutched at his chest with mock relief. "Ah, thank you so for your leniency on this matter, Lieutenant. I am most thankful."

She shook her head at his theatrics, grateful for his playfulness easing the tension she'd been feeling. Which Abbie was pretty certain had been Ichabod's intention. Abbie unconsciously licked her lips, suddenly nervous again. "So, we're doing this then?" She blinked. "I mean, finding the orb," said Abbie hastily. "Just finding the orb and undoing the stone curse thing?"

Ichabod nodded slowly, eyes holding hers once more. "I believe we are."

Abbie felt her stomach knot up in sudden nerves. "What are we doing?" she groaned. "Is this a bad idea?"

"We are allowing possibilities into our lives," said Ichabod simply. "Possibilities that do not have to be acted upon, but are precious nonetheless, just because they exist at all."

"That sounds less daunting."

"As was my intention. There is such a thing as overthinking some things."

"Jenny thinks we've been underthinking this whole thing between us."

Ichabod grimaced. "As does Hawley. I was happy to dismiss his opinion, but Miss Jenny… well, I hold her in far higher esteem."

"I guess they can't both be wrong," said Abbie unhappily. "But maybe this isn't going to be a disaster if we don't under or over think this whole thing… just, you know, think it." She wrinkled her nose. "Which doesn't sound right either."

"Whatever the way forward is, we will traverse it together," said Ichabod easily. "On a night such as this, with such clear skies and in the most excellent company of friends, old—" he inclined his head towards Abbie, "and new—" Ichabod was now nodding towards the eagle owl still regarding them steadily high above their heads. "I find a deep contentment in that knowledge, and look for nothing further to still the formally frantic machination of my thoughts in this matter."

"Again, there just had to be an easier way to say that."

Ichabod just smiled. "You take my meaning well enough, and that is all that matters."

He was right and Abbie did feel better all of a sudden. They'd made a decision together about what to do next, and even though neither one of them had the first idea what the future might hold for them, knowing they would be facing it together, no matter what, was a very soothing thought.

"I should go," said Abbie idly, looking up at the stars with Ichabod. "Let you get some sleep."

"Sit with me for a few minutes longer," said Ichabod huskily. His hand curled around hers, enveloping her in its warmth. "There will always be time for sleep, but there will not always be perfect skies to be marveled over."

Abbie settled back against the woodpile. "Can't argue with that I suppose." Or mores to the point, didn't want to. Everything had gone from impossibly complicated to wonderfully simple between them within a few moments of honest conversation. Abbie didn't want to break this newfound serenity between them.

Ichabod threaded his fingers through hers, eyes on the heavens. "Perfection, is it not?" he whispered to her.

Abbie looked at him. "I don't know if anything can be perfect," she said softly. Ichabod met her gaze. "But this feels pretty damn close."

A slow smile spread across Ichabod's face. "It does indeed, doesn't it?" He lifted her hand to his chest and pressed his other hand over their entwined fingers, attention shifting back to the stars above them. "Infinitely close to perfection."

Abbie couldn't remember the last time she'd just held a man's hand in silence. It was a long time ago, if it had ever happened at all. But this moment she knew she'd always remember, the surprising intimacy contained within the simplicity of it all. Abbie rested her head on Ichabod's shoulder, infinitely glad from the few moments respite from the confusion and flurry of their lives, and grateful she was able to enjoy that respite with the man who'd become her best friend without her even realizing it.

"All will be well between us, Lieutenant." Ichabod lent his cheek onto the top of her head. "Come what may."

"I know," said Abbie and in that moment she really did know that as a truth in her life and everything made sense in her life again.

There was no better feeling in the world to have found a real partner to walk through this life together… come what may…

 **A/N** **: And there we have it… the end? I mean, I could obviously write them retrieving the orb and what Ichabbie decide to do with their choices, but I kind of like leaving it there for people to make up their own minds if and when they might take their relationship to the next level. Besides, my promises of sequels in this fandom have not gone too well in the past. This whole, supposedly two chapter fic was to make up for that. Nearly 50 000 words later, I still feel guilty about that. So, I'll be making no promises in regards to this story. Nonetheless, I hope you had fun with this little tale. I did have fun writing it. Thanks so much for reading and maybe I'll see you in another SH tale if I ever write one. :D**


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